


Steal My Girl

by MedieavalBeabe



Series: One Direction and Thee [2]
Category: Harry Styles/Reader - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Accidents, Blackmail, Choices, Evil Simon Cowell, Friendship, Gen, Romance, sometimes not, sometimes smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:17:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 61,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3446894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is it that dating a celebrity is never plain sailing?</p><p>You and Harry have been dating for three months now, but life isn’t quite without its barriers and boundaries. There’s one person who really doesn’t want the two of you to be together. </p><p>Harry’s prepared to do whatever it takes to be with you. </p><p>Are you prepared to do the same for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Me and You vs The World"

 

You walk into the SU Bar and are immediately pounced on by your classmate Megan.

 

 _“[Y/N]! [Y/N]! [Y/N]!”_ she shrieks.

 

“What, what, what?” you ask, bewildered by her sudden excitement. Her eagerness is very like that of a certain someone you happen to be dating.

 

“The tickets, the tickets, the tickets!” Megan squeaks, still bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet in front of you like an energetic dog.

 

“Oh, they came?” you realise, laughing.

 

“Phew!” Your mate Izzy laughs from over where she’s sitting underneath the television screen. “I thought you were going to say everything in triple, then, like some bad American sitcom or something!”

 

You laugh again.

 

“You are so great!” Megan grins at you. “I can’t believe you managed to swing it!”

 

“Well, when your boyfriend happens to be a member of a famous band, there are perks,” you smile, finally sliding into your seat. “Like getting concert tickets for your friends when everywhere else is sold out.”

 

Your friends, Fern, Libby and Clara, are already sitting down, along with Ollie, and they all laugh. “Well, I really owe you one,” Megan replies, sitting down beside you.

 

“I still can’t get over it,” Ollie says, shaking his head. “After everything you’ve always said about One Direction.”

 

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “Harry grows on you.”

 

“They’re on in a bit,” Izzy informs you, pointing up at the screen. “Right after this, apparently.”

 

You grin as you all sit out yet another crappy pop song that everyone else in the world thinks is catchy but which you guys just think is annoying, and then yes, indeed, a presenter appears on the screen and announces that he is here with One Direction. The camera pans to the famous five and your friends pretend to cheer and clap, causing you to laugh as you’re met once again with the cheeky grin and cute puppy-eyes of your boyfriend, Harry Styles.

 

“Great to have you guys on the show,” the presenter, whose name you missed, says.

 

“It’s great to be here,” Louis, ever the leader of the group, smiles back.

 

You end up not concentrating on the bits of the interview where the others are talking, only pricking up your ears towards the end when the presenter turns to Harry after chatting to Zayn about his current relationship status.

 

“And tell us, Harry, are you still with your mystery girl from Cardiff?” he asks, politely.

 

Harry laughs lightly at the nickname. “Yes, I am, and we’re very happy together.”

 

“Yeah, he really misses her when she’s not here,” Niall puts in, and then he leans towards the camera and says _“[Y/N],_ if you’re watching this, he keeps muttering your name in his sleep.”

 

“Shut up!” Harry exclaims, elbowing him.

 

“Aw!” Megan and Ollie coo, turning to you as the others giggle at Niall rubbing his ribs and pretending to be seriously injured. You blush and then notice Harry glance to the camera a second and flash a small smile that you swear is only for you and which says something like “That is true, though.” The second the interview’s over, you send a quick text to him.

 

_I was watching that._

 

A moment or six later, you get a reply. Two, in fact.

 

Beep.

 

_Gonna kill Niall._

 

Beep.

 

_But he was right. Apparently. The others all say I’ve been doing that too._

 

You giggle and reply.

 

_It’s ok; it’s cute. Means you must miss me a lot._

 

Beep.

 

_I miss you every day, [Y/N]._

_I miss you too, Puppy. Talk to you tonight, ok?_

 

Beep.

 

_Can’t wait._

 

Beep.

 

_Now if you’ll excuse me I have to take revenge on Niall._

_LOL,_ you send back and then put your phone away. “Puppy” became your nickname for Harry due to his ability to make the big puppy-dog eyes expression that makes your heart melt as well as his seemingly endless amount of energy and happy-go-lucky persona, and after you accidently said it to him after an amazing bout of lovemaking at his place not long after you first started going out with him, it just sort of stuck. He’s got several quite sweet ones for you; Cavegirl, Medieval Maiden and Medieaval Beabe, due to the fact that modern technology baffles you and you can just barely use a laptop. He once teased you about being stuck in the Dark Ages when he discovered that you were probably the only person in the whole of Great Britain who didn’t have a touchscreen phone (you still don’t) but he tends to used the nickname Cavegirl the most since it’s shorter and quicker to slip into conversation.

 

It’s so strange to think that there was a time when you actually hated him and the other members of One Direction just as much as the fans who slate the music you like. Now, however, you were unable to believe that you had ever dated anyone **but** Harry Styles. He’s just so adorable and even though at first you swore you were immune to his charms, he won you over and before you knew it you were head over heels for him, and he for you.

 

“That presenter was pretty cool,” Libby says. “Better than the one that last time; he was a right arse.”

 

You nod, solemnly. Everyone knows what Libby means when she refers to “that last time.” The last time you had watched One Direction doing an interview in the SU Bar, Harry had unintentionally broken your heart by making out that you weren’t together, simply to put the press off your scent, and it had seriously damaged your opinion of him. But he had won you back, proving his feelings for you by declaring them in front of your entire Shakespeare class, plus Cosma, your Italian-born lecturer, through song, and you had made up, again in front of the whole class and after that Harry had publicly requested that the press leave you in peace. So far, they’d kept that promise.

 

“Three more days,” Megan gushes, bouncing in her seat as she turns to you. “Are you excited?”

 

You laugh. “Only to be seeing Harry again. And it’ll be nice to see the others too, providing Niall’s still alive by then.”

 

Ollie laughs. “I hope so!”

 

You’re not entirely sure how to break the news to him that Niall’s actually straight, so you simply smile and go back to finishing off the assignment you were meant to have finished yesterday but instead found yourself distracted by an episode of Doctor Who that you really had to watch on IPlayer before the next one’s due to be put up, and a much needed nap. Just when you’re finishing up and getting ready for your next class, you get another text, from Harry’s number, although it only makes sense when you read who it’s actually from.

 

Beep.

 

_[Y/N], can you please keep your boyfriend on a leash? He has very hard elbows! Love Niall!_

 

You burst out laughing and before your friends can ask what’s up, you get another text.

 

Beep.

 

_Ignore whatever Niall said. He’s an idiot._

 

You quickly relay what’s going on to the others before sending a reply.

 

_It’s fine. He’s just saying that you’re very good at putting him in his place xxx_

 

Beep.

 

_He needs it._

_I really have to get to class now, Harry._

 

Beep.

 

_Ok. Talk to you later._

 

_I love you._

Your heart melts a little at that.

 

_I love you too, Harry x_

 

Beep.

 

_Xxx_

You put your phone away and hurry to class. So far it seems like dating Harry has its ups and downs, but then what relationship doesn’t? You’ve spoken to Clara, who’s in a long-term relationship with a bloke called Sam whom you and your friends are also mates with, and she says that’s perfectly normal.

 

But you always pull through in the end. It’s the two of you, together, through thick and thin.

 

And nothing’s ever going to change that.

 

Nothing and no one.


	2. "I Really Miss You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Harry try one step up from phone sex...

You walk into the flat with two new assignments in your bag as well as a reminder that you’re due for a meeting with Geoff, your Gothic and Science Fiction lecturer next Friday. It’s funny how when you were in first and second year, everyone said “Oh, second year’s the hardest one,” and then suddenly you’re in third year and they say exactly the same about that.

 

It’s also funny how your mind hasn’t been on _anything_ academic for the last few hours.

 

You feel a bit naughty, in a way, sexually fantasising about you and Harry somewhere far away from all the hustle and bustle of Cardiff life, when you’re supposed to be studying and taking notes. A little rebellious part of you, though, kept saying “Oh, screw my degree, it’s been ages since my boyfriend and I were in bed together, fuck off the lot of you!” and kept imagining erotic, arousing scenarios that could easily be straight from Fifty Shades or something.

 

It’s at times like this you are _so_ glad you’re not a boy!

 

You smile, dreamily, as you shuck your jacket and drop your bag before logging into your laptop and checking Skype. Barely have you done that, you get an incoming call. You smile and click on the Answer button, bringing up your boyfriend’s face on the screen. That just serves to make you smile even more.

 

“Hey,” you grin.

 

“Hey, Sexy,” Harry replies, grinning right back.

 

You laugh. “Have you been watching Doctor Who again?”

 

“Well, it was either that or thump Niall, and I figured he’d suffered enough already,” Harry jokes. “Plus the bus ride was pretty boring. Anyway, you _look_ sexy in that dress.”

 

 _“Harry,”_ you say, fondly. You know he’s doing it on purpose to make you blush.

 

“Well, you _are_ the sexiest person I’ve seen all day,” Harry observes, with that cheeky little grin of his. You giggle and he reached out and touches the screen, the spot where your cheek is from his perspective. “I really miss you.”

 

“I miss you too,” you whisper. Your heart is racing already and once again you find yourself wondering how he can be cheeky one minute and then so serious and tender the next. There’s no denying, he’s just the perfect boyfriend. “It’s only another three days ‘til we see each other again,” you point out. “Think you can wait that long?”

 

“Mm, I don’t know,” Harry teases. “I did doze off earlier and I had some pretty steamy dreams about us.”

 

“You too?” you tease right back. “And, um, what did these dreams of yours involve, Harry?”

 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Harry smirks.

 

You feel a rush of arousal pooling into your core, but you’re determined not to give in to him just yet. “Well, there was this one where we were in this beautiful hotel, near a beach, somewhere tropical, white sands and crystal blue water, and it was so hot but you know, there was air conditioning too. You were sitting on the bed, just in your boxers, waiting for me. I was in the bathroom, and when I came out, I had on this little negligee made from sheer black fabric, trimmed with red lace, and around here,” you gesture to your chest, “it was see-through, “and I was wearing these little black pants, you know, the kind they call “panties” in America and I slunk up to you,” you lean forwards a little with your chest on your folded arms, knowing that in doing so he’s getting a good eyeful of cleavage from where he’s sat, which is the idea, “and crawled into your lap and I could feel your erection pressing into me, you were so hungry for it,” you can see Harry’s shifting slightly where he’s sitting, imagining it, “and then you lay back and I kissed you all over, finding all your little hit spots, making you squirm for me-”

 

“Jeez, _[Y/N]!”_ Harry groans, flushing and you smile.

 

“Is someone getting a little aroused there?” you tease, knowingly.

 

Harry bites his lip as he raises his eyes sheepishly to yours. “You’re a cruel girl, _[Y/N].”_

 

“Then why are you still with me?” you ask, wickedly, and then you add, in your most seductive tone “Puppy...”

 

Harry wriggles slightly. _“[Y/N]...”_ he says, warningly.

 

You giggle. “You need to take care of something there, Harry?”

 

He gives a small growl and fixes you with a look. “You just wait until I’m there with you. You are going to be so sorry you ever teased me.”

 

“Ooh, what are you going to do to me?” you tease, leaning forwards slightly more, spreading your legs either side of the chair as you do so.

 

“I’m going to rip your underwear off and tease you so badly that you’ll be begging me to take you,” Harry whispers, mischievously. “I’m going to make you so wet for me you’ll need new sheets.”

 

“You’re already halfway there,” you whisper back, tantalisingly drawing attention to your lips as you say it.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ you need to know, I’m really not going to last much longer,” Harry warns, his eyes widening as he says it.

 

You get to your feet and slide off your cardigan, slowly. _“[Y/N],”_ Harry warns but he carries on watching you strip even so. You kick off your shoes and then slide your leggings down, teasing him as you back onto the bed and throw your legs up in the air so that he gets a good view of your bare thighs as you peel them off, along with your socks. Harry closes his eyes for a second and groans. You smirk as you get to your feet and pull off your dress.

 

“See something you like, Harry?” you tease, running your hands down your body, stroking the cotton of your underwear and suddenly wishing you had something sexier on than your plain cotton pants and T-shirt bra. Still, it’s aroused Harry. A second later, he practically flies off the bed and hurriedly yanks off his shirt. “Aw!” you say, with a mock pout. “Don’t I get a striptease too?”

 

Harry shakes his head, like you’ll be the death of him. “You just wait, _[Y/N],”_ he sighs, but he slowly pulls his jeans down for you.

 

“Oh, wait,” you say. “What if the guys walk in?”

 

 _“[Y/N],_ we’ve got a suite and our own rooms in this place,” Harry replies, with a smile, but then he adds, thoughtfully, “But I will just lock the door, though, hold on.” He disappears from view, momentarily, and you hear a soft click in the background before he’s back in front of your screen. His hard-on is definitely, ahem, standing to attention now. He’s really not going to last much longer.

 

“Are you going to imagine it’s me relieving you of that heavy burden?” you smile.

 

“I never imagine anyone else,” Harry smirks back. “Actually...”

 

He breaks off with an embarrassed shake of his head. “What?”you say.

 

“No, nothing. Forget it. It’s stupid.”

 

“Harry, please tell me.”

 

“Don’t hate me for it.”

 

 _“Harry,”_ you say, warningly. “What have you been doing?”

 

Harry meets your look with a bashful smile, looking something like a love-struck fawn. “I, um, I may have...once or twice...not long after I first met you...and thought about you while I was doing it.”

 

It’s your turn to flush. _“Harry...”_

 

“I know, I’m a naughty boy.”

 

“No, it’s actually kind of sweet.”

 

It’s no good. Your own throbbing is becoming too painful to be pleasurable and you twitch slightly as you watch Harry shimmy out of his pants. Oh, God, you’d forgotten how gorgeous he looked naked. Your core throbs again. “Come on,” Harry grins, teasingly, “I want to see you out of your underwear too.”

 

You go about it a little quicker simply because, like him, you know that you really need to take care of your arousal soon. “Harry, I’m not going to last much longer either.”

 

“It’s alright, _[Y/N],”_ Harry soothes, taking himself in hand. “Just pretend I’m right there with you.”

 

“I wish you were,” you sigh, pulling your laptop onto the bed and positioning it so he can see you as you lie down, bared in front of your screen. “I wish you were touching me and kissing me, here, the way that drives me crazy,” you add, touching yourself.

 

“Yeah, you like it when I kiss you there, like that?” Harry breathes, already beginning to jack off.

 

You tremble as your fingers find that spot that he always finds and uses to send you over the edge. “You know I do...” you stammer.

 

“God, _[Y/N],_ you always feel so good...” Harry groans.

 

You close your eyes, listening to him describe how much he loves being inside you and then with one sudden gasp of “Harry!” you feel yourself come undone, as your orgasm ripples through you like, like, well, it’s indescribable as always. You realise you’re shaking as you ride it out and a second later you hear Harry gasp “Oh, _[Y/N]_...I love you...”

 

You raise your head in time to see him shooting white ribbons of cum, watch it pool across his stomach as he utters your name in a whisper and finishes up. “I love you too, Harry,” you manage to choke out.

 

You both lie in silence a moment, catching your breath, and then a sudden knocking causes you both to start. You jump upright but it’s on Harry’s side of the world, it seems.

 

“Harry? You there, mate?”

 

It sounds like Zayn. “Shit!” Harry mutters, scrabbling off the bed and pulling his pants back on. “Hold on a sec!”

 

You quickly roll out of view and yank your knickers back on, quickly wriggling into your dress just as you hear Harry unlocking the door and saying “Hey, what’s up?”

 

“Hey, we’re going down for a drink,” Zayn replies. “You coming?”

 

“Nah,” Harry says, quickly. “Think I’m going to turn in.”

 

“Already?”

 

“I’m Skyping _[Y/N].”_

 

“Oh!” You’re just wriggling into your leggings when you hear Zayn call “Hey, _[Y/N]!”_

 

“Hey!” you call back, inwardly thankful that it’s Zayn since, being the only one with a girlfriend in the group besides Harry, he understands this stuff a bit better than the others.

 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” Zayn says and you hear the sound of Harry closing the door. He quickly clambers back into view of the camera. You see that he managed to pull his jeans back on but he’s still shirtless, not that you care.

 

“Sorry about that,” he sighs. “They really do pick their moments.”

 

“That’s alright,” you smile. “Do you think he guessed what we were up to?”

 

“Probably, but he’s too polite to say,” Harry says and you both giggle.

 

“That was pretty amazing,” you say, “even if it’s not the same as actually being with you.”

 

Harry smiles. “If I could just jump on a flight and be there with you now, I would, in a heartbeat.”

 

You blush. Sometimes he’s so cute that you want to cry. “How do you manage to be so sweet all the time?” you ask.

 

He shrugs and jokes “I think my Mum had a craving for sugar when she was pregnant on me.”

 

You smile. That’s a subject you two still need to talk about; neither of you have met the other’s parents yet. Hell, you haven’t even told your parents that you have a boyfriend now, let alone that it’s Harry Styles. Still, that’s a conversation that can wait until you’re together again. “Well, mine says she kept craving pickled onions and ice cream when she was expecting, so what does that say about me?”

 

You both laugh and carry on chatting well into the evening. It’s only when your stomach growls that realise how late it is. Harry laughs. “Go on, cook a stir-fry or something. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“You’re brilliant,” you sigh, rubbing your stomach.

 

“Well, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you starve to death?” he grins.

 

“That would be bad for your image,” you agree with a smile. “Night, Harry. I love you.”

 

“I love you too, _[Y/N],”_ Harry replies, sincerely. “Sleep well.”

 

“You too, Puppy,” you smile, before kissing your fingers and pressing them to the laptop screen. Harry does the same and you both linger for a minute before you finally close your laptop down and go to satisfy your screaming stomach.

 


	3. "Heartbeat"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally you and Harry are back together again...

You’re thankful that the date Harry and the others start playing in Cardiff happens to be the second day of your Reading Week, because you seriously doubt that even Cosma would let you off lectures just so you can spent most of the day before the first gig with your incredibly cute, talented and loving boyfriend. It’s just as well anyway, because you need some of the morning to prepare the special greeting gift you planned for Harry. You thought about it long and hard the night before and at two am this morning you were up on your laptop researching Recipes for Banana Muffins. Now you’ve finally slipped them all into a Tuppaware box and as you walk out of the flat with them, you feel like there should be an exclusion zone around you and your goodies, a bit like that scene in Night at the Museum 2 where Hank Azaria shouts “This is a no-touching zone!”

 

Thankfully no one barges into you or jostles you on your way to the Motorpoint Arena and you quietly slip around to the back doors with a smile on your face.

 

“Can I help you, Miss?” one of the burly bouncers asks, arms folded, as you approach. When you hold up your VIP Pass, however, they understand and let you through. “Watch out for any loose cables,” the other advises you.

 

You nod and make your way tentatively inside, not entirely sure where you’re meant to be going. Thankfully you run into one of the backstage crew who sees your pass, assumes you’re something to do with the Press and ushers you to the dressing room. It’s a vast room, wide enough to fit your entire class in, and very comfortable looking, with sofas and an XBox, bit like a typical male-dominated living room. You smile and place your box on the table before sending Harry a quick text.

 

_Hey, I’m here. I got sent to your dressing room._

 

Pocketing your phone, you’re in the process of examining a few photographs on the wall when the door bursts open and you’ve barely turned around before Harry’s yelped _“[Y/N]!”_ and seized you in a hug that lifts you off the floor. He spins you about, holding you so tightly you can barely breathe but you find yourself laughing at his enthusiasm.

 

“Harry!” you exclaim.

 

“I have missed you so much!” Harry says, kissing you fiercely, punctuating each word with a kiss as he talks.

 

“Harry!” you insist as he finally puts you back down on your feet.

 

He blinks at you. “What?”

 

You laugh and cup his face. His confused expression is just so adorable. “Hello,” you smile. “That’s usually the way people in the UK greet each other.”

 

Harry laughs and pulls you into another hug. “Sorry, guess I was just pleased to see you.”

 

You grin as you cuddle into him. “I’ve missed you too, Puppy.” You suddenly notice that he feels very damp. “Have you just been rehearsing?” you ask, trying not to sound like you’re complaining.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry apologises, realising what you’re getting at and he pulls away from you. In a way you’re disappointed. If you could you’d spend every single second for the rest of your life being held by him. “I’ll just change.”

 

You smile as he pulls a clean shirt off the rack. “Take a shower,” you grin. “We’ve got ages together yet.”

 

Harry simply gives you a cheeky look and disappears into the adjoining bathroom. You quickly hop up on the table and swing your legs, feeling very much like a celebrity’s girlfriend, sitting the dressing room, waiting for him. “Where are the others?” you ask, suddenly noting their absence.

 

You hear him chuckle over the sound of running water. “And here I thought you’d come to see _me!”_

 

“I have!” you insist. “I was just wondering where they were! I mean, it’s not like Niall to miss an opportunity to XBox!”

 

“Well, they’re probably still passed out on stage from all the rehearsing,” Harry replies, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his waist as he scrubs another through his hair. You blush and avert your gaze to keep yourself from suddenly pinning him to the wall and demanding he take you right there and then. “We’ve been at it non-stop for four hours.”

 

“Four hours without a break?” you exclaim. “No wonder they’re all knackered!” Then, with a frown, you add “So how come you’ve still got so much energy, then?”

 

Harry grins as he shimmies back into his jeans. “Adrenaline, I guess.”

 

“From where, exactly?” you laugh.

 

He shrugs as he pulls on his Vans, and then comes over to brush your hair out of your eyes. You lift your face so that you’re staring into his cute puppy-like ones and smile. “From being excited about seeing you again.”

 

“Aw,” you coo, your heart melting. You can’t help it. Why is he so unbelievably cute all the time? Not, of course, that you’d ever have him any other way. “So,” you add, mischievously, “now that you’ve got me here, Pup, what do you intend to do with me?”

 

“This,” Harry grins before he kisses you again. You hop up from the table and slide your arms around his neck, running your hands through his damp hair. How is it still so fluffy? You just shrug and press closer to him, not caring a bit that you’re getting damp now, at least it’s clean damp this time. He feels all lovely and warm after stepping out of the shower anyway. You’re suddenly reminded of your first date, and how very determined you were that you didn’t want him to kiss you, but in the end, well, he had and you had loved every second of it.

 

You’re both suddenly interrupted by a knock at the still open door and the sound of someone clearing their throat. You break apart and look up, expecting to see Zayn or one of the others standing there with a cheeky expression on their face, but instead you’re met with the steely look of the one X-Factor judge that you would never want to find yourself up against in a dark alley.

 

Harry gives an embarrassed grin and runs a hand through his hair to try and neaten it. “Hey, Simon.”

 

“I see you’re enjoying your break, Harry,” Simon replies. He doesn’t look at you, and you wonder whether that’s deliberate, because he can sense you’re a little embarrassed too.

 

Harry just laughs and quickly pulls his shirt on. You glance at Simon but his eyes are still avoiding yours. Only when Harry takes your hand and laces his fingers through yours does he finally look at you and give a curt nod. You hope it’s a nod of approval. “I don’t believe you two have met yet,” Harry says, turning to you. _“[Y/N],_ Simon, Simon, _[Y/N].”_

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, politely holding out your free hand.

 

Simon’s hand feels cold and stiff as he takes yours and gives it a brief shake. You wonder if he’s someone who usually avoids such forms of contact. “So, you’re the girl our Harry never shuts up about, then?” he says.

 

Your blush deepens. “Yes, but don’t worry, I’m not about to distract him too much from his music or anything, Mr Cowell.”

 

“Call me Simon,” he replies, glancing back to Harry. “If you’re going out, make sure you’re back by six at the latest.”

 

Harry gives a mock salute that brings what looks something like a smile to Simon’s face as he turns and leaves. You can’t help but shiver slightly. “I wouldn’t like to be X-Factoring against him,” you mutter to Harry.

 

He laughs. “How do you think I felt? Anyway, he’s nice really, underneath, he just forgets to lose the “evil judge” persona in public sometimes.”

 

You grin, feeling cheered again. “What; you mean that’s like his alter-ego or something?”

 

Harry laughs. “Yeah, I can see him being the super villain, like Blofeld, or Loki.”

 

“Well, he’d be perfect for roles like that, he is English,” you point out and your both laugh. “Oh, hey, I forgot,” you say, pulling him towards the table and handing him the box. “I made you something.”

 

Harry looks surprised but touched. “Aw, _[Y/N],”_ he says, pulling off the lid and his face lights up at once. “Banana Muffins? You’re the best!”

 

“You’re welcome!” you laugh as he hugs you. “I was worried I’d have to bribe the guys outside with one to let me in, but they just checked my pass and gave me the ok.”

 

“I’ve got something for you too,” Harry says, pulling away from you, although he looks slightly doubtful as he does so. “But you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I just thought...y’know...”

 

“What?” you ask. A part of you’s slightly worried.

 

_Oh, God, please don’t let it be anything sexy, like underwear or something!_

_Don’t be daft! Harry’s far too innocent to do anything like that!_

_Is he? After everything_ we _do together in bed?_

_Shut up!_

_Remember the Strip Snap?_

_Pack it in!_

 

To your relief, however, Harry goes over to a plastic bag on the sofa and pulls out what looks like a folded black T-shirt. Inwardly you breathe out and take it from him. It is a T-shirt, a rather loose, baggy one, with the words “I’m With the Band” printed on it in white lettering. You can’t help but giggle at the cuteness of it.

 

“I just thought, well, you might be able to sneak backstage more often with that on,” Harry confesses, looking embarrassed as he runs a hand through his hair. “But...if you don’t like it...”

 

“Harry, I think it’s great,” you tell him honestly and then you pull it on over the long-sleeved bright blue shirt you’re already wearing. It fits just fine, it’s a little baggy, but you prefer T-shirts that way to be honest. You hold out your arms and look yourself up and down. “Perfect fit,” you say and he grins in relief. “Thank you,” you add, going up and kissing him. “You’re very sweet.”

 

“You seem to be saying that an awful lot lately,” Harry points out, cheekily. “But it’s better than “shut up,” I suppose.”

 

“Shut up,” you laugh and he protests “Hey!” as you grab the front of his shirt and slam your lips to his again. “Come on,” you say, grinning and taking his hand. “I want to say “hi” to the guys.”

 

“Alright, hang on a tic,” Harry says, glancing around the room. “Just let me find somewhere to hide this somewhere they won’t get their grubby little mitts on it.”

 

You giggle. “You know, you men only ever think about two things; food and sex!”

 

Harry pretends to do a double take in mock surprise. “You mean, there’s more to life than just that?”

 

You burst out laughing, and after Harry has found somewhere to hide his precious muffins, he pulls you out of the room and in the direction of the stage. You suppress a giggle at the sight of the others all lying flat out on their backs, catching their breath.

 

“Kill me,” Liam mutters as you approach. “Kill me now.”

 

“Hey, guys,” you say.

 

“Oh, hey _[Y/N],”_ Niall grins, sitting up as much as he can. “Forgive us if we don’t get up to hug you or anything.”

 

“Yes, we can’t all be Harry,” Louis mutters. “Blessed with endless energy.” Harry tosses a nearby towel at his face. “Ow,” Louis says, lamely, from under it.

 

“Ignore him, Haz,” Zayn grins. “When he gets a girlfriend, he’ll understand.”

 

“How is Perrie?” you say, politely, because Louis looks like he might respond with a kick or something.

 

“She’s great, I’ll tell her you said “hi,” Zayn replies.

 

“Oh-oh!” Liam groans, pushing himself upright at last. “Can’t believe we have to do all this again tonight!”

 

“You guys look like you could use some Detoxers,” you say, an idea quickly forming.

 

“Use some what?” Liam says.

 

“Detoxers,” you say. “They’re these amazing smoothies they do in my favourite caff. They’d definitely give you some energy. We can run out and get you some.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Louis replies, sitting up. “Thanks, _[Y/N].”_

 

“No problem,” you say, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him along behind you.

 

“You’re spoiling them,” Harry jokes.

 

“We heard that, you git!” Louis calls.

 

You both laugh as you leave. To be perfectly honest, your insides have been tingling since you saw Harry step out of the bathroom and if your calculations are correct it won’t take long to get the smoothies and bring them back here, and your flat is only just down the road and the boys won’t know how long it could take to get a smoothie from your favourite cafe’, you could just tell them there was a very long queue or something.

 

Harry seems to get your thinking because he mutters “You’re a genius,” as you hurry from the stage.

 

“I know,” you grin. “Grab your hoodie and let’s go.”

 

“Yes, dear,” he jokes, kissing your cheek before retrieving it and his phone from the dressing room. Together you hurry as quickly as you can manage all the way back to your flat. Once inside your room, you both begin kissing like made, feeling like you both want to rip the other’s clothes off.

 

“Harry, I need you so badly,” you say as you lean against the wall with him kissing your neck. Your legs feel like they’re about to buckle.

 

“I know,” Harry whispers, his breath ragged. “I’ve been half-hard for you since I got off stage.”

 

“Oh, isn’t _that_ romantic,” you sigh, sarcastically, and then immediately shake your head, feeling like you’ve reverted back into your snarky self, the self that Harry first encountered that day he accidently bumped into you on Hereford station. “Sorry,” you groan.

 

Not to your surprise, however, Harry simply laughs and raises his head to meet your eyes, giving you that adoring look. “I really do love you, _[Y/N].”_

 

“Show me,” you challenge, pulling him toward the bed. You’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have him inside you, but when it happens, well, it all comes flooding back to you and you feel like you’re falling off the edge of reality and then flying.

 

 _“I love you, Harry,”_ you breathe as you reach your mutual climax together with a shuddering motion.

 

Harry rolls off you and pulls you into his arms, tucking you into his side so that you’re snuggled tightly against him. “I love you too, _[Y/N],”_ he whispers, kissing your forehead. “Feels like I’ve been going mad without you.”

 

“I know,” you whisper, your heart racing. It strange that you don’t realise how much you miss having him around until he’s right beside you again, you note, but then there was a time when you were certain that you’d never miss having him around. But Harry really has grown on you since you first met him all those months ago. You can feel his racing too and you smile as you snuggle closer to him, enjoying being like this with him whilst you can. “Me too.”

 

 


	4. "Just Give Me A Reason"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives a terrifying ultimatum from Simon...but why?

**Harry’s POV:**

 

We finish up the concert with What Makes You Beautiful and get met by a million cheers from the fans. My mind is on _[Y/N]_ the whole time, though, especially considering that I always call that one “our song.” Which, of course, the others always take great delight in teasing me about.

 

I don’t really care though. I love _[Y/N]_ to bits, always have, I suppose. That day when I first bumped, literally, into her on the platform outside the Pumpkin Cafe’, my first thought was _“Oh, my God, she’s gorgeous, play it cool!”_ Then, my second thought when she started to talk, or rather, snap at me, was _“Blimey, not a fan, what did I do to deserve this?”_ It’s true when I told her that I loved her temper. I do. I love it that she’s not afraid to shout at me if I get on her nerves, and I loved how snappish she was that first day we met because it was such a change from her being a screaming fan who threw herself at me. I still love her for that.

 

Which, of course, is why I was quite hurt when she told me her reasons for disliking me. I know now, of course, that she didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but it did feel like she’d just punched me in the chest when she said it. I mean, I really liked her, and when someone you really like calls you a “talentless no-hack,” of course it’s going to hurt. But I forgave her the second I rescued her from that drunk and when she finally agreed to go out with me, I felt like the luckiest man alive.

 

Felt even luckier after I’d kissed her.

 

I remember that day, I still think about it, when we had that interview that broke her heart and almost ruined everything for us. I didn’t think she’d watch it. I mean, after she kept on saying that she still hated our music even if she was starting to like me, well, I didn’t expect her to. I only told the interviewer that she wasn’t my girlfriend to keep the press off her back, after all, and when she wouldn’t let me explain, well, panicked doesn’t quite describe what I was feeling. I spent so much of my spare time trying to get her to talk to me that the guys started to worry about me.

 

“Dude, if Simon sees you like this, he’ll throw a fit,” Liam had said. “Give it up, mate.”

 

“No way,” I’d said, firmly. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got to talk to her.”

 

“Look, mate,” Louis had said, sitting down next to me. “I know you really like her, and I know that this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but if she doesn’t want to talk to you, then, well, what can you do? Maybe you should just give it up.”

 

“I can’t just “give it up,” I’d exclaimed. “I love her!”

 

That was when Zayn had sprung to his feet and said “Right, this is serious! If she’s not picking up, then you need to get her attention some other way!”

 

“Like what?” I’d said, but even as I’d said it, I’d realised what I had to do.

 

So it was that the entire population of One Direction had grabbed a car and set off for Cardiff Met.

 

“I need to know where I can find _[Y/F/N] [Y/L/N]_ right now,” I’d panted to the woman on the front desk. “She’s a student here. It’s urgent.” Then when she’s stated that finding one student’s name amidst the thousands in the system would take a while, I’d decided to speed things along a little by adding “She should have a Shakespeare lecture right now,” and she had simply said that I’d probably want Lecture Hall 2 and pointed to her left.

 

And that was how I’d won my girl back, basically.

 

Looking back, I’m fairly sure that I fell in love with her somewhere between first meeting her and going on our first date together. I like to think it was probably when were having that drink together in the Green Dragon, the night of our first kiss. That was probably the reason I decided to “behave” on our date, to not tease her about hating me or try to convince her that we should be together. I just acted like we were two ordinary people on an ordinary date, and I’m pretty sure that that’s what won her over in the end. Now it’s hard to remember what my life was like before she stepped into it, and I’m not going to let anything tear us apart ever again.

 

“Good show!” Niall laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we exit the stage.

 

I laugh, weakly. “Yeah! Those Detoxers really worked, didn’t they?”

 

“Your girlfriend is a genius!” Liam grins.

 

“I know,” I say, smugly.

 

I’d tried to find her amid the crowds of screaming fans tonight, but with all the lights on and all the jumping about the stage we do, as well as the moshing thy do, it had been hard to pick her out. All I know is that, with her T-shirt on, she had been somewhere near the front with the security men. But I’d sung my heart out for her, singing every lyric to do with love just for her, and I knew that she knew that.

 

“She coming to the hotel?” Zayn asks.

 

“Yeah, for a bit,” I say. “She’s meeting us in the car.”

 

“Ace,” grins Zayn and then sniffs his shirt. “Yeah, I definitely need a shower!”

 

“Good show tonight, boys,” says Simon, emerging from the shadows. With his signature black T-shirt on, it’s hard to see him when he’s lurking there. I swear he does it on purpose just to freak people out. “Harry, a quick word, please?”

 

I frown but nod and he leads the way back to his own dressing room, which is a bit like ours but minus the Xbox and he’s moved one of the tables between the two sofas so it’s more like an office. I quickly sit on the sofa opposite his. “Have I done something wrong?” I ask. “Oh, God, was that joke about the leeks inappropriate or something? Hell, I should have asked _[Y/N]_ -!”

 

“No, no, Harry,” he answers, not taking his own seat just yet. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not. “You were the best of the lot of them up on that stage; only don’t tell them I said that?”

 

He winks. I wriggle, slightly uncomfortably, in my seat. “Which is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about,” he goes on.

 

My head shoots up. “Forget it. I’m not going solo.”

 

He blinks at me and then laughs. “You really are something else, Harry! No, that’s not what this is about.”

 

“Well, no offence, but will you just tell me what it _is_ actually about,” I say, fidgeting. “Because I do actually have a girl waiting for me in the car and I’d rather not leave her alone with the others for too long, or else she’ll be emotionally scarred for life,” I quickly add, as a joke.

 

Simon doesn’t smile, though. “Now that is what I wanted to talk to you about. Your...what’s her name again?”

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ I say, wondering what he’s getting at.

 

“I want you to stop seeing her.”

 

I stare at him. “Sorry, what?” I stammer, unable to believe that I’ve heard him correctly.

 

“I want you to stop seeing her, Harry,” Simon says, finally sitting down opposite me.

 

“Why?” It comes out more accusing than I meant it to sound, but I can’t believe I’m hearing this. What possible reason could my manager have for wanting me to stop seeing _[Y/N]?_

 

“Because she’s no good for your public image,” Simon replies, absolutely poker-faced.

 

I let out a hollow laugh. “Interesting! And how is my wonderful, loving, intelligent, beautiful _[Y/N]_ who’s everything _but_ a screaming fan, crazed axe murderer or sleazy sex worker, **not good for my image, Simon?** Enlighten me!”

 

“Don’t shout, Harry, or you’ll strain your voice,” Simon replies, in a bored tone.

 

I ignore him, leaning forward in my seat. “Tell me!”

 

To my surprise, however, Simon doesn’t seem to have a proper answer as he hesitates before replying. “She will ruin you, Harry.”

 

“How? She’s not even a celebrity.”

 

“Exactly my point. You should have stuck with Taylor.”

 

“Oh, come on, me and Taylor were never going to last, we both know that,” I say.

 

“Harry, other celebrities know their limitations when spilling the beans about their private lives, and especially their private lives where other celebrities are concerned,” Simon says, leaning forwards in his seat.

 

 _“[Y/N]_ wouldn’t talk to the press about us,” I insist. “She didn’t even do that when she thought I’d dumped her during that interview when I told people we weren’t together.”

 

“You never know, Harry, you can’t be too careful,” Simon begins.

 

“No,” I interrupt, firmly. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I know _[Y/N]._ She’d never do a thing like that.”

 

“You’ve only been dating her a few months, how can you be certain?” Simon counters.

 

“Because she’d have nothing to gain from it,” I persist. _“[Y/N]_ doesn’t want the spotlight; she doesn’t want to be in the thick of it all the time. That’s why she wants to be a writer, so she can sit back and be famous from a distance. She doesn’t just want to be remembered as a girl who once shagged Harry Styles.” I take a deep breath and add “And she could have just done that a long time ago even if she does, so why would she wait this long?”

 

Simon meets my eyes for the first time and I can see that he’s struggling, like someone who knows they’ve lost the fight but they’re carrying on trying anyway, and then I realise that he must have some other reason for not wanting me to see _[Y/N]_ anymore, but he doesn’t want to divulge it.

 

“Very well, Harry,” he says, with the kind of sickly smile that he uses when he’s being sarcastic. “Let’s try it your way, shall we? You carry on seeing your _[Y/N].”_

 

I blink at him, bewildered. “Um... _thank you?”_ I say, sounding sarcastic myself as I get to my feet.

 

“And good luck finding another band with a slot open for one more,” Simon says, stopping me as I make for the door.

 

I wheel about. “What?”

 

“You heard me.” Simon swivels his eyes to mine. Now he looks like a cat that’s cornered a mouse. “If you’re choosing _[Y/N]_ over the band-”

 

“I didn’t say that,” I say, and then I realise what he’s doing. I step up to him. “You can’t kick me out of the band just because you’ve got a problem with my girlfriend! Who are you to tell me who to fall in love with?”

 

“I’m your manager, Harry, or do you forget that you lot are only famous because of me?” Simon gets to his feet. “It’s your decision; let down the team or get rid of the girlfriend.”

 

“I’m not about to do either,” I say, stubbornly. I must sound like a child because he suddenly puts a fatherly hand on my shoulder.

 

“I’ll give you a week to make up your mind, Harry,” he says, his eyes flashing, warningly. “Of course, I predict you’ll choose the band. But if you don’t, then I won’t hesitate to kick you out, regardless of your talent.”

 

With that he leaves the room, and I stare after him, unable to believe it. Whatever his reasons for hating _[Y/N],_ which I’m now absolutely certain have nothing to do with my public image, it’s clear that he’s not about to tell me, and it’s also clear that they’re strong enough to make him blackmail me like this. The thing is, though, I’m torn. I love _[Y/N]_ with all my heart, but on the other hands, I love the guys too, in a different way, obviously, but I can’t let them down any more than I can stop seeing _[Y/N]._

 

“I don’t know what to do,” I realise, and then I shake my head. “Get it together, Styles. He’s got to be bluffing. He can’t seriously get rid of you. One out, all out with you lot.”

 

I march out of the room and make my way out to the Jag. _[Y/N]_ looks up, brightly, as I climb in, and her eyes light up, reminding me of the time I first saw them, those beautiful [y/e/c] orbs that captivated me right from the start. It makes my heart race faster, makes my head worry more.

 

“You ok?” she asks, her smile suddenly slipping. “You look a bit stressed.”

 

“I’m fine,” I say, fixing my face into a smile as I fasten my seatbelt. “Just...had a bit of a row with Simon, that’s all.”

 

“Oh.” _[Y/N]_ watches me, carefully. “Anything I need to worry about?”

 

“No,” I say, although I hate lying to her. But I know it would crush her if she knew that I had to choose between her and the guys, and knowing her, she’d make me choose the guys, and that would crush me.

 

 _No,_ I decide, _Simon has to be bluffing. I’ll stick it out for a week and see what he says then._

 

“Come here,” I add, pulling her into my arms and burying my face in her hair. Suddenly it feels like she’s all that’s keeping me sane.

 

“Sure you’re alright?” _[Y/N]_ asks as she cuddles into me, and I want to cry at how caring she is.

 

“Trust me, I’m all the better for seeing you,” I grin, and when she giggles in that cute little way of hers, I kiss her whilst I still can, guaranteed that when the others get in, they’ll start crowing “Oh, get a room,” or whatever.

 

_No, must kiss her whilst I still can and worry about everything else later._

 

 


	5. "Does Your Mother Know?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Harry enjoy some alone time...

You’re still a bit worried about Harry as the car takes you to the hotel. Even though he genuinely seems perked up around you, and even more so when the others pile in, he did seem somewhat irked by his row with Simon. It’s strange but you could never picture Harry losing his temper with anyone. He’s always so bouncy and cheerful and positive it’s just hard to picture anything really making him angry. Still, he seems to revert back to the cheeky, bright, playful puppy-like boy you fell in love with soon enough, laughing with the boys and making wisecracks, one arm around you the entire time, his free hand holding yours, fingers interlinked, and you relax, although you can’t help wondering what he and Simon had a row about.

 

You don’t get the opportunity to ask, though, because before you know it, the car’s pulled up outside the hotel and you’re all being ushered inside by security guards. Harry tucks you into his side, clearly worried about losing you amid all the crowds of people. It’s a bit scary, actually, so much noise and you’ve never really liked being in crowds anyway – the only thing that got you through standing in the mosh pit was the thought of being in Harry’s arms again. You press closer to him and close your eyes tight, allowing him to guide you over the threshold. But eventually you’re through, and one of the concierges is escorting you all towards a private bar on the second floor.

 

Harry glances at you and smiles. “You alright?”

 

You feel a warm tingling inside you as you look up at him and smile back. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

He kisses the top of your head and leads you into the bar. You’re surprised to find that, actually, there are a few people already inside but you soon learn that they’re a few friends of Liam and Zayn’s. They all seem quite friendly, and not, you suspect, just from the alcohol. Soon the whole room’s abuzz with chatter and laughter and you and Harry find yourself in a corner with Chris, one of Zayn’s buddies and his girlfriend Lynda.

 

“So, how long have you two been going out, then?” Chris remarks, with a pleasant smile.

 

“Just three months,” you smile back, taking a sip of your cocktail.

 

“Mm, and I had to work very hard to convince her to go out with me,” Harry grins, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You giggle and he brushes your forehead with a kiss. “But I eventually won her over with my charms.”

 

Lynda laughs, softly. “What, did you have to play the Knight in Shining Armour, Harry?”

 

“He did, actually,” you remember.

 

“Knight in Cotton Armour,” Harry corrects you, with a grin.

 

“Yes, he once saw off this sleazy drunk guy who tried to hit on me in Hereford one time,” you explain.

 

“Aw,” Lynda smiles.

 

“Shots!” you hear Niall exclaim over the noise.

 

“Typical Irishman!” Chris laughs. “Always drinking!”

 

Harry laughs. “You should see him when we play Belfast!”

 

“Come on,” Niall insists, stumbling over to you lot. You catch him with one arm and steady him. “Cheers, _[Y/N],”_ he says, and then adds “I want to see you lot take at least one shot with the rest of us.”

 

“Fine, we accept your challenge,” Harry laughs, placing down his empty glass. You follow with Chris and Lydia as he guides Niall over to the bar and try to quash down your disappointment that you all wind up with shots of neat vodka on the first round. To you, vodka on its own always tastes like swallowing hairspray. Still, you down it with the rest of them and use your next shot of Sourz Apple to take the taste away.

 

“Come on,” Harry murmurs in your ear as you put down your empty shot glass. “Before they start Fizz Buzz or something.”

 

You smile and allow him to lead you from the bar and into the lift. For some reason, by the time you get inside, you’re both giggling. It’s got to be the alcohol, or it could just be the fact that you’re with your boyfriend and it’s impossible not to smile or laugh whenever he’s in a laughing mood. It kind of feels like that scene in Baz Lurhman’s Romeo and Juliet where they share their first kiss and then start giggling as they come out of the lift, only to promptly dive back in again and carry on snogging when Mrs Capulet and Paris come up the stairs.

 

Almost as if he’s reading your thoughts, Harry steps towards you and you step back so that your back is pressed against the lift wall. He places his arms either side of you and leans in to kiss you. You let his lips brush yours but when his tongue begins to beg access to your mouth, you don’t submit, at least, not until you hear him make a small frustrated moan that sounds a little like a slightly stretched out _“[Y/N]!”_ and part your lips with a small smirk. His tongue brushes yours, playfully, before he sucks you in completely and you quickly wind your arms around his neck to keep your knees from buckling, because you feel like they just might.

 

“So going to get you back for that,” Harry murmurs as he finally, slowly, pulls away from you to give you both a second to breathe.

 

“Oh, really?” you tease, your breath mingling with his as he nuzzles your nose. “Well, I’d like to see you try that, Puppy.”

 

“You will see me try that, Cavegirl,” he teases back before diving for your lips again. You allow a small moan of pleasure to escape you since it’s only the two of you in the lift together. You’re so caught up with kissing him that you barely notice his hand move from the wall behind you to play with the waistband of your jeans before he slips his fingers between it and your body, stroking your skin. You let out a soft sight of pleasure and then realise what he’s up to.

 

“Oh, God, Harry,” you breathe, leaning back. Your body’s already crying for him. You never once thought of yourself as someone who would ever crave sex, even after you lost your virginity and found out what all the fuss was about. But after the first time you and Harry, well, after the second time you and Harry did it, really after all, the first time you both agree was a blur, the thought of it had become more and more appealing to you. After all, Harry’s brilliant at knowing exactly what to do and how to make you feel loved.

 

For the first time since dating him you find yourself wondering just how many girls, besides Miss Swift, he’s had. But it’s a brief thought because the next thing you know, his fingers are working their way into your pants and you’re arching your back, trying to find the angle for him to hit that drives you wild, and praying madly that no one suddenly calls the lift in the next ten seconds. Your legs part and you gasp as he touches that sweet spot just right...and then instantly withdraws so that he’s not touching you there at all. Opening your eyes, you look up into his mischievous eyes and realise what’s going on before he even says anything.

 

“Told you,” he smirks, sliding his hand around your back to rest on your bum.

 

“You...” Words fail you and you feebly slap at his arm. “You git.”

 

Harry chuckles. “If you can tease me, then I can tease you.”

 

“That wasn’t fair,” you say, slowly and deliberately, casting your eyes down to show your disapproval.

 

Harry nudges your forehead with his, still grinning cheekily at you. _“[Y/N],”_ he coos, softly, but you refuse to meet his eyes. Now he’s left you aroused and unsatisfied, you’re definitely going to make him work to get what he wants from you. Harry ducks his head and starts kissing your neck. “I’m sorry, _[Y/N],”_ he murmurs with each kiss, “I’ll make it up to you.”

 

“You’d better,” you say, your tone stiff, but when you eventually raise your eyes to his, you smile to show him that you’re not really cross. With a soft ping, the life doors slide open at your floor and he quickly pulls you out in the direction of their suite. You clasp his hand tightly as he swipes the card key and unlocks the door. The suite is nice but you don’t have time to appreciate it because the urge for him is just too much to bear and so the second the door’s closed behind him, you fling your arms about him and kiss him fiercely.

 

“You had _better_ take me right now or I am really going to be angry with you,” you mutter, surprised at how forceful you sound.

 

Harry’s eyes widen, slightly, at that. “Yes, Ma’am,” he teases, pretending to look anxious.

 

Before you can object, he pulls you into what’s presumably his bedroom for the night and as he locks the door behind you, you toss your bag onto the nearest chair and spin around to meet him as his arms encircle you again. Your core is throbbing for him now and you quickly push him towards the bed. You both giggle as you topple down onto it and Harry ends up pinned underneath you. You take the advantage to pin his wandering hands above his head as you break the kiss for a second.

 

“Seriously,” you gasp. “I need you! Badly!”

 

Harry grins and then you both realise that he’s very aroused too. Harry looks slightly bemused. “I think I like that,” he says, and when you frown, he elaborates, “You pinning my down. I think that’s why...” He gestures as best as he can with one hand to the bulge in his jeans.

 

You blink at him. “Oh, my God, you were serious, weren’t you? That time I called you a masochist and you said you were a Sub?”

 

Harry grins. “Well...”

 

“I bloody knew it!” you laugh, releasing his hands as you sit up.

 

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. “You don’t have to...you know. Experiment. If it makes you uncomfortable. I mean, it’s not a fetish or anything.”

 

“Isn’t it?” you tease, smiling.

 

“Well...” Harry admits, sheepishly, his hands tracing the waistband of your jeans again. “It’s not one I’ve ever indulged in a lot, and certainly not one that I can’t live without.”

 

You lean forwards and wrap your arms around his neck. To be perfectly honest, the thought of dominating him is somewhat appealing to you. “I’ll think about it,” you say, grinding yourself slightly against his hard-on, and emitting a small groan from him. “Puppy,” you add in your most seductive whisper.

 

“God, _[Y/N],_ I need you right now,” Harry groans and then he quickly flips you underneath him. You laugh as you both fumble to help each other out of your restricting clothing and then suddenly you’re both touching and kissing one another everywhere and it’s déjà-vu all over again just like earlier today. The way he makes you feel, it’s like Vesuvius erupting all over again, and soon you’re both shuddering in one another’s arms as you reach your mutual climax.

 

“You’re so incredible, _[Y/N],”_ Harry whispers, pulling you up in his arms as you cuddle up together afterwards.

 

You smile as you catch your breath, snuggling against him. “You’re not too bad yourself, Styles,” you joke and you both laugh. You lean closer to him, pressing kisses to his chest and he cards his hands through your hair for a while.

 

“I love you, _[Y/N],”_ he says, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you frown slightly. It’s almost like he’s in pain as he says it. You glance at him but see nothing in his face but ecstasy and sincerity.

 

“I love you too, Harry,” you say, slowly, as you raise your head. “Are you sure everything’s ok? Because you know you can always tell me if it isn’t.”

 

Harry smiles at you. “Trust me, _[Y/N],_ everything’s perfect.”

 

You believe him and decide that maybe it’s just you being paranoid. You lie back down against him, wondering how to tell him what’s on your mind. In the end, you decide to just come out and say it. “Harry...have you...told your parents about us, yet?”

 

“Yeah, I told them ages-” Harry breaks off and glances at you. “You haven’t told yours yet?”

 

“Not exactly,” you hedge, guiltily.

 

“Not exactly?”

 

“Well, not at all.”

 

“How come?” Harry looks slightly wounded and you hate yourself, suddenly feeling like the worst human being in the history of the world.

 

“Because then they’d want to meet you,” you say, sighing.

 

Harry frowns. “And that’s a bad thing?”

 

“You don’t know my parents,” you say. “I’ve had them meet boyfriends before and it’s always felt really awkward. And it’s going to this time.” Then, glancing at him, you add “Not because of _you,_ Harry, you’re great, because of them.”

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ Harry says, smiling as he cups your face, “everyone says that about their parents. I say it about mine.”

 

You sigh. “But _yours_ are probably normal.”

 

“Well, who wants normal?” Harry asks. “If I did, I probably wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.”

 

Your head jerks up. “What are you trying to say?”

 

Harry laughs and wraps you in a hug. “I’m trying to say that you’re quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met before in my life and that that’s why I fell in love with you.”

 

“Nice recovery,” you tease, cuddling against him. Then, you sigh. “I suppose I’m going to have to tell them sooner or later.”

 

“Yep,” Harry agrees, popping the “p” as he says it.

 

You glance at him. “What did you tell yours?”

 

“Pretty much the same as I told the guys; that you’re amazing, that I really like you and then later I told them that I’d fallen in love with you,” Harry replies, linking his fingers through yours.

 

“It’s ok for you, though,” you say, thoughtfully. “I still have a bit of a reputation for hating One Direction, remember? I don’t know how I’m going to explain that.”

 

Harry chuckles and kisses your fingers. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

 

You both lie in silence for a while. You know that in a few more hours you’ll have to leave because at some point you need to get back to the flat, but for now you’re content to just lie with Harry, enjoying the silence and the feeling of being with him, and the realisation that he’s holding you as if he never wants to let go of you ever again.

 


	6. "Lies"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, the title says it all, really!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised that the Jag driver doesn't have a name in What Makes You Beautiful but Harry would probably call him by his name rather than "the driver" so he's Phil now, in case anyone gets confused.

Harry’s POV:

 

I don’t remember falling asleep. I mean, we must have done for a bit, because the next thing I know I’m waking up, feeling drowsy and slightly not-quite-with-it-just-yet with _[Y/N]_ in my arms, but I don’t actually remember falling asleep, which is a shame because it was one of the best naps of my life.

 

 _[Y/N]_ makes a similar drowsy noise to me and pushes herself up slightly in my arms. “I really need to get going,” she sighs.

 

“No,” I say without opening my eyes as I pull her closer to me, my own voice heavy with sleep. “Stay with me.”

 

“I can’t,” _[Y/N]_ laughs. “I haven’t got a reservation.”

 

I sigh, an exaggerated huff of air and open my eyes. “Fine,” I say, flatly, wishing that I could just keep her next to me all the time.

 

“Oh, come on, don’t be grumpy,” _[Y/N]_ murmurs, nuzzling up to me. “Or I shall have to tickle you.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” I grin, but a second later her fingers find my ribs and I gasp. _“[Y/N],_ you bad girl! Cut it out!”

 

She giggles as I catch hold of her arms and I find myself smiling at her. “Puppy doesn’t like being tickled?” she teases.

 

“You know I don’t, Cavegirl,” I laugh, releasing her wrists and pulling her close to me again. She feels so soft and warm, her hair smells of something like raspberries, and it feels like just being with her is perfect.

 

“Mm, I’m sorry,” she murmurs into my chest, before pushing away to look at me. “But I really have to get going.”

 

I know she’s right, she can’t stay here the entire night with me, even though I really want her to. “Ok,” I sigh, regretfully, sitting up and bringing her up with me. “I’ll take you back.”

 

“Harry-” _[Y/N]_ begins and I know she’s about to say something like “You don’t have to do that,” so I cut across her before she can finish.

 

“I’m not about to run the risk of you being hit on by some sleazy drunk again,” I say, my voice firm but with a hint of a laugh in it just to show her that I’m not trying to boss her around, just look out for her. “You remember the last time that happened?”

 

 _[Y/N]_ shudders and then gives me a look. “There’s no winning any arguments with you, is there?” she asks with a fond smile.

 

“Nope,” I say in that smug way I know she sometimes finds annoying as I lean over to kiss her. Her lips are always so unbelievably soft, which is why I love kissing her so much, and I lose myself for a second, forgetting that she has to go. It’s only when she eventually puts her hand on my chest and pulls away from me with a murmur of “Harry,” that I remember.

 

I sigh and nod. “Right,” I say, kissing her forehead. As I do so, I’m suddenly reminded of Simon’s ultimatum, and just how much I don’t want to have to give up either _[Y/N]_ **or** the guys when push comes to shove. I feel like I’m in the middle of two giant mountains, with her on top of one and them and top of the other, and I’ve no idea which mountain to climb up. I mean, I love _[Y/N]_ and as for the guys...well, I love them too. They’re like my brothers. And people always say that family and friends should come before romantic partners, because they’re recyclable, but the thought of ever giving up _[Y/N],_ well, she’s like family to me too. Losing her would kill me.

 

But letting down the guys would kill me too.

 

I try to quash down my worries as I fumble for my clothes on the floor, hoping I don’t look too dishevelled. I mean, the guys know that _[Y/N]_ and I are intimate with each other, but I’d rather avoid any of their teasing tonight all the same.

 

 _[Y/N]_ stretches after she pulls her T-shirt back on. “Mm,” she sighs, turning to me. “That was a good sleep.”

 

“It was,” I agree with a grin. I fish for my own shirt and as I yank it on over my head, I see _[Y/N]_ checking me out, her eyes going from aroused to quite obviously disappointed when I cover up. I’m suddenly filled with a desire to hug her, so I hold out my arms. “Come here.”

 

She comes up and as I fold my arms around her, enveloping her in what can only be the warmest embrace ever, a tiny voice in my head says _You really should tell her what Simon’s asked you to do._

 

The thing is, though, a part of me truly believes that he must have been bluffing. There’s no way he can kick me out of the band overnight; that would raise all sorts of questions from the press and whatnot. No, I have to stand firm and show him that I’m not splitting up with _[Y/N]_ just because there’s something about her he doesn’t like.

 

Briefly I wonder what that something is. How can _anyone_ not like _[Y/N]?_ As far as I can see, she’s fairly popular in Uni, and, ok, so she was quite fiery with me when we first met, but she’s also sweet and caring and funny and well, what more do you want? That alone was enough to make me fall in love with her.

 

Whatever it is that Simon can see and I can’t, it must be tiny.

 

“Harry.” _[Y/N]’s_ voice brings me back to the present. She’s got her arms wrapped around my waist, holding onto me tightly with her head buried against my chest. “You would...tell me if something wasn’t alright, wouldn’t you?”

 

I feel terrible all of a sudden for lying to her. But I know I can’t tell her the truth. I can’t just pull out of her hug and say to her “No, actually, _[Y/N],_ everything’s not alright because my manager’s forcing me to choose between you and being in the band and when push comes to shove I’ve no idea which of you I’d choose,” because I know, I just _know,_ that she’d make me choose the band.

 

And then what? What if I did choose them over her? I’d almost gone to pieces that time I accidently broke her heart, when she stopped taking my calls or replying to my texts. This time there’d be no winning her back by singing One Thing to her. And I can’t function without her. I needed her in my life.

 

On top of that, I don’t want to break her heart again.

 

But then if I chose her over the band, then I’d lose more than a few friends. I could see it all ending in hatred and bitterness and hurt, and even though I’d be with _[Y/N],_ things would never be the same again. The guys are as much a part of my life as she was.

 

Whichever path I chose, if I did have to choose, I’d lose something.

 

So, I force myself to say, casually, “Of course I would, _[Y/N],”_ hating myself for lying to her, and then I add, gently, “What’s brought this on?” even though I know the answer. She must have realised that something’s amiss; she’s not daft, my _[Y/N]._

 

“I don’t know, just...” _[Y/N]_ sighs and looks up at me. “That row with Simon; are you sure it’ll all blow over by tomorrow? I can’t stand the thought of him being angry at you.”

 

I offer her a reassuring smile. _“[Y/N], I_ was the one who was angry at _him._ But I’m fine now.” That’s true enough; I was the one doing most of the yelling and I’m calmer now. “You did a very good job of calming me down,” I add, playfully.

 

 _[Y/N]_ smiles and doesn’t ask about the row again. I’m glad, because I don’t want to have to tell her the truth and coming up with an answer would involve more lying to her, and I’ve already done that more than I care to tonight.

 

I give her a soft kiss before I lead her from the room and we make our way down in the lift, hand in hand. I push all thoughts of Simon and threats from my mind and just focus on being with _[Y/N]_ in this moment. I wouldn’t mind a repeat of what happened when we took the lift up here earlier, but due to the fact that we’re not alone in the lift this time, it’s not actually possible. Still, we share secret smiles as we plummet towards the ground floor and sneak through the lobby before any fans or photographers can pop up out of nowhere like in a game of Splat-the-Rat or something. Thankfully, none do and we make it to the Jag without anyone other than Phil having seen us. _[Y/N]_ explains how to get to her flat and as we set off, I wrap my arms around her, savouring being close to her whilst I still can.

 

“When are we actually going to get to see each other again?” _[Y/N]_ murmurs, closing her eyes. I hope that she’s not going to fall asleep on me again because it would be so tempting to just tell the driver to turn around and go back to the hotel if she were to.

 

“After tomorrow, we’re playing another concert here in a couple of months,” I say. “One night only, once the international touring’s all over and done with. Then we’ve got two concerts in Belfast and that’s it.”

 

“Aw,” she sighs. “I’m going to miss you so much when you’re out of Britain.”

 

I smile and hug her tighter. “I’ll miss _you_ every second, _[Y/N].”_

She looks up at me, sleepily. “Please don’t go falling in love with any local girls.”

 

I laugh. “I promise. You trust me, don’t you?”

 

 _[Y/N]_ smiles. “Yes, of course I do. But...you know. You are an international superstar, the one that every teenage girl probably has a poster of on their bedroom wall.”

 

I shake my head. “I’m taken,” I say, kissing her. A thought strikes me as I do so and I pull abruptly away from her, causing her to blink at me in surprise. “How about we make a deal?”

 

“A deal?” _[Y/N]_ repeats. “What kind of deal?”

 

“I won’t stray from you at all,” I say, taking her hand and pressing it over my chest, looking straight into her eyes. “I swear on my own life I’ll be true to you. And you promise to tell your parents about us before I come back to you.”

 

She gives me a smile that clearly says she has no idea what she’s going to do with me. “Alright, I swear on my life that I’ll tell my parents about us while you’re away. But you really don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

 

“No, but I’d love to find out,” I smile, kissing her neck.

 

Her eyelids flutter shut and then she says “You don’t have any problems with dogs, do you? You’re not allergic to them or anything, are you? Only we’ve got two.”

 

I smile, although I’m a little confused by her train of thought. “No, I like dogs, and they seem to like me for some reason. Why?”

 

“Well, you are very puppy-like,” _[Y/N]_ points out with a smile.

 

“No, I mean why are you asking me that?” I ask and she lets out an embarrassed laugh of “Oh!” Sobering up, she explains “Well, I just know that the first thing my Mum’ll do after I tell her is invite you to dinner, so, you know...”

 

She trails off, ducking her head and I can see she’s just imagining how it can all go horribly wrong. I take her hand and squeeze it. _“[Y/N],_ I’m sure everything’ll be fine,” I tell her, “and I’d love to meet your parents. Plus, mine really want to meet you too.”

 

“Yeah, but _they’re_ normal,” she smiles.

 

“Trust me, they’re not,” I insist as we pull up outside her flat, prompting another laugh from her. I love hearing her laugh; it’s like music. She thanks Phil, politely, and then turns to me with a sad sigh.

 

“Call me heaps,” she says, hugging me. “Even if I’m in a lecture or something. I’ll get back to you.”

 

“I will,” I promise. “And we can still Skype too, providing our hotels get free WiFi.”

 

 _[Y/N]_ gives a soft giggle and then kisses me. “Goodnight, Harry.”

 

“Night, _[Y/N],”_ I murmur back. Then I quickly grab her for another kiss. “I love you,” I tell her, meaning it more than ever. I am so going to miss being physically apart from her for so long. My body’s already crying not to let her go.

 

“I love you too,” _[Y/N]_ whispers back and then I finally have to let her go. I let my fingers linger in hers for as long as possible and watch her run to the flat door. She turns, smiles and waves before running inside. I don’t blame her for wanting to get in quickly; it’s starting to rain. How’s that for ironic? It matches my mood.

 

“Everything alright, Mr Styles?” asks Phil and I realise that I’m still staring at her flat door. I rouse myself and settle back in my seat.

 

“Yeah,” I say, still pretending that everything’s alright. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just going to miss her is all.”

 

We say nothing for the remainder of the journey, or rather, he allows me my private thoughts. In a way, though, that’s just worse, because I keep thinking _[Y/N] or Guys, [Y/N] or Guys, [Y/N] or Guys?_ over and over in my head again and again. I’m actually glad to get back to the hotel and I’m all set to get to bed and start dreaming about _[Y/N]_ still being in my arms – although of course it won’t be the same as her actually being with me, but it’s better than nothing – when Louis suddenly pops up in front of me. I actually jump, my heart racing, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Where’ve you been?” he asks. “Niall said he thought he’d seen you and _[Y/N]_ sneaking off to your room, but when we checked, no one answered. We were starting to get worried.”

 

“I just dropped _[Y/N]_ back at her place,” I explain, feeling now more torn than ever if this is the way the guys react when they think they’ve lost me.

 

“Well, you could have said something,” Louis sighs, shaking his head.

 

“Well, you could have called me,” I point out, countering his argument.

 

We look at each other and grin. “Touché,” Louis admits, before turning to call over his shoulder “It’s ok, Si, I found him!”

 

I look over his shoulder to see Simon coming out of the bar. I look at him, into his neutral expression and hard eyes, and all I can feel is anger; anger that he’s giving me this choice, trying to make me choose between the love of my life and the best friends I’ll ever have. And I really don’t want to be standing in the same room as him right now.

 

“Good,” Simon replies, smoothly, turning a friendly expression on me but I can see something else in his eyes, something Louis doesn’t notice, something I don’t like. “Where were you, Harry?”

 

“I had to see _[Y/N]_ back,” I say, my voice strained. “Sorry, I should have phoned.”

 

Louis glances at me, noting the difference in my voice. “You ok?”

 

“Come have a drink,” Simon says before I can reply. “You’ve earned it tonight.”

 

I have to spill out another lie to get away, otherwise I might just start screaming. “Thanks, but I’m feeling pretty exhausted and I think I should really rest my voice, so I’m going to bed.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, I turn and make my way as casually as I can to the lift. Once inside, I feel like I can breathe properly. I’m going to have to talk more cordially to Simon in the morning, otherwise the guys will suspect something’s up, but right now any respect, any liking, I ever had for him feels all twisted up inside my guts. It’s like suddenly there’s an elastic band around my lungs whenever I’m near him; this feeling of really not wanting to be with him.

 

_Like [Y/N] on our first date?_

 

I start to laugh at that, thankful that I have the lift to myself again, otherwise I’d be getting some very funny looks right now. When it eventually reaches my floor, though, I’ve stopped laughing and started worrying again. I’m worried about Simon forcing me to choose between _[Y/N]_ and the guys. I’m worried that whatever I choose will just blow up in my face anyway. And what’s more, I’m worried that _[Y/N]_ will find out that I’ve lied to her, even when I promised to always tell her the truth. If she did, she’d be heartbroken all over again and never want to have anything to do with me for the rest of her life. She’d shut me out completely and I couldn’t handle that.

 

“This is such a mess!” I groan, dragging myself into my room and flopping down onto the bed.

 

Why is Simon trying to ruin the best thing that ever happened to me?


	7. "Whatcha Say?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally tell your Mum about you and Harry...

You groan as your alarm goes off and open your eyes. Why does it feel like you’ve only had three hours sleep? Then you frown. It’s dark, like it’s still night. Then you realise that it is till night and it’s not your alarm going off, but your ringtone. Snapping on the light and groaning again, like a vampire in the sun, you grab it and answer without even checking who it is, because you have a feeling you already know.

 

 _“Harry!”_ you groan. “It’s stupid o’clock in the morning! I just had sex with you; what more do you want from me?”

 

The voice on the other end of the phone sounds both confused and very un-Harry-like.

 

“Um, it’s me.”

 

Your jaw drops and you immediately face-plant. “Oh, my God, Megs! I’m so sorry! I thought you were-!”

 

“Harry,” Megan interrupts and she sounds like she’s grinning. “You two had a good night, then?”

 

You feel your cheeks burning. “You could say that. Oh, my God, please don’t tell the others!”

 

She laughs. “I think they’ve already figured out that you two sleep together, _[Y/N],_ but if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell.”

 

“Thanks,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

 

“Hey, it could have been worse. I could have been someone trying to sell you something,” she points out.

 

“Mm, or my mother,” you agree and you both giggle for a bit. “So, you enjoyed the concert, then?”

 

“Um...YES!” Megan replies in a voice that clearly says “Well, d’uh!”

 

_She sounds like Donna Noble in The Runaway Bride, you think. Or Jonathan Creek; he can be pretty sarcastic._

Megan begins wittering on about how much she enjoyed being right in the heart of the mosh pit, right in front of the stage and how she swears blind that they could see her in the crowd and waved at her once or twice.

 

“Oh, and when they sang Story of the My Life, my heart just melted,” she gushes.

 

“I’ll bet it did,” you smile, humouring her in the hope that she’ll let you go back to sleep soon. Unlike you, Megan’s a party animal and for her this is the equivalent of being up at ten o’clock in the morning for you.

 

“Oh, and when they got onto One Thing, all I could think of was that time Harry came into class and sang it to you. That was so sweet.” She sighs. “I wish a boy would do that for me. You’re so lucky, _[Y/N].”_

 

You smile, sleepily. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

 

Megan notes the sleep in your voice. “Sorry, sorry, am I keeping you up?”

 

You instantly feel bad. “No, no,” you insist, even though your eyes keep closing and you’re finding it very difficult not to start yawning right now. “I’m ok.”

 

“So, you and Harry...hung out a bit after the show?” Megan asks, with mock coyness.

 

“Yeah, we went back to the hotel and had a few drinks.” You giggle. “Niall got a bit tiddly.”

 

“Aw! And I missed it?” Megan laughs. “I bet he was cute!”

 

“Yeah, he kept clinging to Liam like a koala bear,” you laugh. “Mind you, he often does that sober too! Anyway, we had some shots and then, well, Harry and I went to his room and afterwards he dropped me back here.”

 

“Aw!” Megan coos again.

 

You hesitate and then ask “Hey, Megs, can I ask you something?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Well...if, hypothetically, you needed to tell...someone that you were in a committed and loving relationship with a celebrity you didn’t used to particularly like and you know that the longer you leave it, the harder it’ll be to tell-”

 

“You haven’t told your parents about you and Harry, have you?” Megan interrupts, knowingly.

 

“No,” you sigh. “I haven’t. I mean, they can be a bit...not funny as such when it comes to boyfriends, just...embarrassing. And it wouldn’t matter any other time, but this is Harry we’re talking about. I don’t want them to scare him off.”

 

There’s a pause and then Megan laughs. _“[Y/N],_ I think if your temper hasn’t scared Harry off by now, then nothing can!”

 

“Thanks a bunch!” you say, indignantly.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ I’m serious. Whatever your parents are like, I’m sure Harry can handle it. He’s probably handled worse before.”

 

“True,” you sigh. “I suppose it’ll be like ripping off a plaster; quick and painless. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah. I promised Harry I’d do it before the tour finishes.”

 

“Oh, well, good luck with it and all,” Megan replies.

 

“Thanks,” you say, “and now, Megs, I’m sorry, but I really must go to bed.”

 

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later,” Megan says, cheerfully. You wonder if she’s had a bit to drink herself tonight, like Niall. Maybe you ought to point her in his direction instead of Louis’.

 

“Bye,” you say and then hang up before switching off the light and closing your eyes in blissful darkness. Morning comes all too soon for your liking, but you were planning to go to the library this morning, so you force yourself out of bed, shower and get dressed before wandering into the kitchen to have some toast. You make a mental note to buy milk while you’re out too since you’re running low. Oh, and you need to get some veg too, you’ll have to pop into the market on your way home.

 

You sigh. So much for getting a break from Uni; you have to study and do all the other boring stuff even when you’re not sitting in lectures. Still, it’s necessary, you remind yourself; at the end of the year you’ll have to turn in a dissertation on Shakespeare’s representations of women in his plays and the view that he was probably the world’s first male feminist author, and you can’t pass on that if you don’t study.

 

So, you spend a considerable two and a half hour period scraping every bit of knowledge on the subject you can take from all the Shakespeare books in the library before your stomach starts screaming at you for lunch. Even when you grab some in the caff, however, you’re reading and re-reading through all the notes you’ve made, making sure that you haven’t left anything out. It’s time to put in that extra bit of work just like Fern would, you decide.

 

Four Portuguese Tarts later, however, you decide that you can no longer put off the inevitable moment and as you leave the cafe’, you send Harry a quick text.

 

_I’m about to tell Mum about us._

 

A second later you get a quick text back.

 

Beep.

 

_Great XD_

_I love you._

You smile, send a quick _I love you too_ back and make your way back home. Skyping your mother’s always easier than phoning her; you can actually see her expression when she talks to you for a start, so after you’ve put away the shopping, you make your way to your room and send her a call. Thankfully she answers after the first three rings.

 

“And about time too,” is the first thing she says to you. “You could have been dead in a ditch for all I knew.”

 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes since she can see you. Your parents are such worriers. “Mum, I’ve got something to tell you.”

 

“I mean, it may have escaped your notice, _[Y/N],_ but your father and I worry about you,” your mother goes on, completely ignoring what you just said.

 

“Yes, I know,” you sigh. “But I need to-”

 

“All I’m asking is for you to call me once in a while, since it’s always me calling you and I never know when you’re busy-”

 

“Mum!” you say, firmly, not bothering to point out the irony that you’re actually calling her right now. “There’s something you need to know.”

 

She frowns, her rant over. “What is it, darling?” Now she’s really worried. “Has something happened? You’re not in any trouble are you?”

 

“No, Mum,” you say with a small sigh. “Chance would be a fine thing.”

 

“Well, what is it, then?”

 

“I’ve got a boyfriend.”

 

“Oh!” Her interest perks up at once. “Well, go on, what’s his name? Where did you meet him?”

 

You take a deep breath. “His name’s Harry Styles.”

 

“Oh, like that boy in that band you hate?” Your mother puts something in the oven as she talks; it looks like a pot roast. “What are they called; One Direction?”

 

“He _is_ that boy in that band that I hate,” you say.

The reaction is priceless. Your Mum actually drops the spoon she’s holding and it hits the floor with a loud clatter as she blinks at you. “You what?”

 

“I’m dating Harry Styles from One Direction,” you confirm, watching her reaction carefully. “I met him a couple of months ago and, well...”

 

“How?” Your mother is stunned and to be perfectly honest, you can’t blame her. After all, it’s not every day that your only daughter, only child for that matter, phones up and casually tells you that she’s dating a celebrity.

 

Briefly you give a synopsis of what happened when you first met, omitting the fact that you thought Harry might be stalking you and the bit about the drunk trying to hit on you; what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, after all. You just tell her that you kept on running into each other and that eventually he managed to convince you to let him take you on one date. You also omit the whole sleeping-together-on-a-first-date part, just telling her than you hung out the next day too, as well as omitting the whole him-breaking-your-heart thing, and finally finish up with a “And now he’s on tour and I kind of promised him that I’d have told you guys by the time he gets back.” There’s a pause and then you say, hesitantly, “Mum? Say something.”

 

“Does he have any allergies?”

 

You blink. “Um, no, why?”

 

“Because the second he’s off tour, he’s coming ‘round here for dinner,” your Mum replies, going back to what she was doing before you phoned.

 

You begin to laugh, because that is just so like your Mum, ever practical, and because you just knew that she’d do that; invite him to dinner. “I’ll pass it on, Mum.”

 

“Good. Oh, and let your father know if there’s any jokes he needs to avoid; you know what he’s like,” your Mum adds.

 

You nod, thinking that there’s probably nothing inappropriate your father can joke about that’ll offend Harry anyway, but it’s better safe than sorry. “Yeah, I will, Mum. Thanks.”

 

She hesitates and then looks up at you. “Is he nice to you? Does he treat you well?”

 

You smile. “Yeah, Mum. He loves me.”

 

That’s the one thing you know you can say with absolute certainty about Harry. He loves you. And nothing’s ever going to change that, ever.

 


	8. "Ever Fallen in Love?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't want to have to choose. If he could, he'd choose both.

Harry’s POV:

 

“Urgh, my head!” Niall groans, flopping down beside me on the hotel sofa.

 

“I told you to take it easy on the sambuca!” Liam says, shaking his head with a grin.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Mr Know-It-All!” Niall grumbles, tossing a cushion half-heartedly at him. It misses and lands of the floor. I laugh.

 

Louis glances at me. “You’re a bit more cheerful today,” he observes.

 

I have an answer ready and waiting. “Yeah, sorry, last night really took it out of me, you know?”

 

“What; the concert or the sex?” Niall jokes, weakly, and I hit him in the face with another cushion, causing them all to laugh.

 

“Concert,” I insist. It’s true in a way; the whole performance experience always leaves us all feeling a bit drained. “After I dropped _[Y/N]_ off, I just wanted to sleep.”

 

“I _still_ want to sleep!” Niall says from beneath the cushion which he can’t seem to be bothered to move off his face. I pull it off for him.

 

“Tough,” says Zayn, who’s just come in. “We’ve got another round tonight and then it’s off to Paris, remember?”

 

Niall groans and throws his hands over his eyes. “No! No international stuff! They can’t make a cup of tea to save their lives over there!”

 

In the end it takes the remaining four of us to drag him off the sofa, and eventually he complies, mumbling something that sounds like “Can’t face food!” It’s only when we threaten to sit on him and force it down him that he actually eats his breakfast. To be perfectly honest, I can’t really face food either, but I know that I’d better eat something, otherwise I’ll probably pass out on stage.

 

So, I play along with the happy, cheery facade and try to stab Zayn with my fork when he attempted to steal my bacon roll right in front of my eyes. “Ow! Hey!” he laughs. “I’ve got to use that hand later!”

 

“Didn’t know you were missing Perrie that much,” Liam grins and then doesn’t duck in time when Zayn flicks a forkful of baked beans at him. I watch, wondering how the hell I’m expected to give this up. We’re like a family, albeit a jokey, slightly dysfunctional, often daft and occasionally drunk little family, but still.

 

On the other hand, how can anyone expect me to give up the girl I had to work so hard to get? _[Y/N]_ means everything to me, but why do I have to choose between her and these guys? Why can’t I just go on having both? It’s always worked before.

 

Suddenly I’m very aware that we’re not alone and I look up to see Simon standing over me.

 

Oh. That’s why.

 

He doesn’t look at me when he talks.

 

“Right, come on, you lot, we’ve got a full schedule today, as you well know, and I don’t want to hear any complaints.” He says it in that way that’s meant to sound stern but there’s a hint of a smile in his voice when he says it.

 

“But I’m hungover,” Niall groans.

 

“Teach you to be careful what you drink, Niall,” Simon says, straightening up. We follow suit, get to our feet and prepare for yet another day of rehearsals. I send _[Y/N]_ a quick, cheerful text, just to reassure her that nothing’s wrong (even though it is.)

 

_Hey, missing you already xxx_

By the time we get to the arena, she’s texted me back.

 

_Miss you too, Puppy, even though you’re technically only a walk away from me. :D_

_You could come over,_ I send.

 

 Beep.

 

_What, and distract you from your music? Simon would have both our heads! Anyway, I have to study._

_:(_

_I’ll Skype you later???_

_Great, can’t wait! XD_

I pause, and then, just for the hell of it, send another text.

 

_I love you, Cavegirl._

 

Beep.

 

_I love you too, Puppy._

“Puppy?”

 

I jump and turn to see Louis leaning over my shoulder.

 

“Stop reading my texts!” I exclaim, throwing a punch at his arm. “I don’t do that with yours!”

 

“Not for want of trying!” he quips back, rubbing his shoulder. “She calls you Puppy?”

 

“Mention it to the others and you’re dead,” I warn him.

 

Luis throws up his hands in mock defence, still grinning maddeningly. “So...do you like it when she rubs your tummy? Does she feed you biscuits when you’re a good boy?”

 

I just give him the finger.

 

The day seems to drag until we finally get a break and I’m finally able to find a private corner to Skye _[Y/N]_ in. I can’t do it in the main dressing room because Niall, who’s finally over his hangover, has challenged Liam to the Xbox, and there are people moving about all the time backstage so I eventually decide to ask Simon if I can use his dressing room. He’s not inside, however, when I knock, so I decide to just go ahead and use it anyway and explain later when he comes back. Surprisingly her Skype’s busy when I call, and then I remember her telling me that she was going to tell her Mum about us today, so I cut the call short and wait for her to get back to me.

 

It doesn’t take long.

 

“Hey,” I smile as her face pops up on my screen. “So...how’d she take it?”

 

 _[Y/N]_ laughs. “Well, she didn’t faint or start screaming, so I’m assuming that’s a good thing. And you’re invited to dinner.”

 

“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” I tease and she giggles.

 

“It’s _them_ I’m worried about, not you,” she says, sobering up.

 

“Relax,” I say, winking at her. “Parents love me!” _[Y/N]_ smiles and I add “So, did you get your studying done?”

 

“Yes,” she sighs, “and let me tell you, it’s a good thing Shakespeare died when he did, because I feel ready to kill him myself right now for having so many fans!”

 

“One of which is you,” I remind her.

 

“Urgh, I know!” _[Y/N]_ runs her hands through her hair. “That makes me sound like-”

 

“The world’s biggest hypocrite,” I finish with a grin.

 

She gives me a tired smile. “Am I really that predictable?”

 

I laugh. “You know, people do say that when you start finishing your partner’s sentences-”

 

“It must be True Love,” _[Y/N]_ finishes. “I heard that somewhere too.”

 

“Disney,” I prompt.

 

“Right. How come those films always have the best messages?”

 

“Because they manage to get the best writers.”

 

“True.” She stifles a yawn. “Speaking of which, do you realise that I’ve hardly done any writing at all since I met you, apart from Uni work?”

 

“Sorry,” I grin, guiltily.

 

“Nah, it’s not your fault,” _[Y/N]_ replies. “I just lost focus.”

 

“Funny,” I say. “I seem to do that when I’m _not_ with you.”

 

Which is why I can’t split up with her. I just can’t. Why can’t Simon understand that?

 

I almost miss what she says next. “Where are you, by the way? Seems unusually quiet back there.”

 

I grin. “I’m in Simon’s dressing room. Couldn’t use ours because it’s too noisy.”

 

“Is Simon ok with that?”

 

To be honest, I don’t care if he is or not, but I don’t say that. Instead I shrug and say “Well, he never said any of us _couldn’t_ use his dressing room if necessary.”

_“Harry!”_ she laughs. “That’s not the same thing!”

 

“Yes, it is,” I insist, with a grin. “Anyway, he couldn’t say “No” if I didn’t ask.”

 

“You’re impossible,” _[Y/N]_ says, shaking her head, fondly at me.

 

I really, really want to kiss her right now.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ how the hell am I going to get through this tour without you?” I ask, just to make her smile. I love her smile. “It’s going to be agony.”

 

“You could always cuddle Niall in the night and pretend he’s me,” she jokes.

 

“No way,” I laugh. “I’d be likely to get hit in the face! He’s a thrasher! Zayn’s better for sharing with!”

 

We end up laughing together and just for a second it feels like everything might be alright. Eventually, though, we both realise that we’ve got stuff to get back to and I regretfully say goodbye to her.

 

“I’ll be thinking about you in every song we sing tonight,” I tell her.

 

“Please stop making my heart melt,” she smiles and I can see her eyes are big, like she’s about to cry.

 

“I’ll try,” I say. “I love you.”

 

I feel like tearing up myself when she whispers back “I love you too, Harry. See you when you get back, ok?”

 

“I swear,” I promise, before we both kiss our fingers and press them to the screens. It’s not the same as actually kissing her but it’s a sweet enough gesture. I was the one who came up with it when we first started Skyping and now it’s become routine to end each call like that, even if we’re both still in the UK.

 

After I’ve shut down my computer, I sit for a bit, heaving a big sigh and muttering “Get it together, Harry,” as I rub at my suddenly wet eyes and wonder if I can pass it off as a sudden attack of hay fever.

 

There’s a sudden knock at the door.

 

I jump. “Um...come in,” I say, awkwardly.

 

“Thank you, Harry,” says Simon, opening the door. “Since this happens to be _my_ dressing room.”

 

I frown at him. “How long have you been standing outside?”

 

“Long enough.” I hate that answer. People always use it when they don’t want you to know what the truthful response to your question is. “I take it you’re finished?”

 

“Sorry,” I say, flatly. “I would have asked you if you’d been around.”

 

I get to my feet and push past him without looking at him. “Harry?” he calls.

 

I sigh and turn around. Simon folds his arms, his expression like that of a friendly teacher who just wants to help out. I almost expect him to ask if everything is alright at home.

 

“Have you thought anymore about what I asked you yesterday?”

 

I swallow. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day,” I say. “And most of yesterday.” Simon says nothing. “Will you just tell me what the problem is?” I exclaim. “Why don’t you like _[Y/N]?_ What’s wrong with her?”

 

Simon ignores that question as he steps up to me. “Harry, you’ve got a good thing going here with this band. Without you, they’d fall apart. Don’t go throwing it all away for the sake of a girl.”

 

It’s plain that he’s not going to give me a reason. This is Boss Simon now, the one who must be obeyed, not Reasonable Simon, the one willing to co-operate with you, the one who appeared last night and asked me to come and have a drink in the bar with the others. Still, I meet his look. I can be just as stubborn as he can be.

 

“Simon, have you ever actually been in love?” I ask, calmly. “Have you any idea what it’s like to hurt the one you love without meaning to? To have your own heart ripped out when they think you don’t care and stop speaking to you? If _[Y/N]_ was just a one-night stand or someone I just use for casual sex on the side, I’d choose the band over her. Easily. But she’s not. I love her. And I’m not going to break her heart again.”

 

I turn and make my way into our own dressing room, hoping that I’ve made my point and that that’s all there is to say, Simon can move on and forget about trying to make me choose.

 

Something tells me that the fight’s only just beginning, though.

 

 


	9. "Signed, Sealed, Delivered"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get two things in the post; and one leaves you stunned!

You groan as your phone goes off and then fumble for it amid all the papers. You’re expecting it to be Harry, but it turns out to be Fern.

 

“Fancy a coffee?” she asks.

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” you reply, pushing yourself up against the desk and rubbing your eyes. Two days after the day you told your Mum about you and Harry and you’re just about ready to scream with the amount of Shakespeare intake your brain’s had so far. You’ve been stuck in the flat for two days, reading, writing and making notes, occasionally breaking to eat or chat to Harry. They’ve played France and they’re off to Rome next. You can’t help wishing that you were there with him, soaking up the sun instead soaking up Shakespeare. Your brain’s beginning to feel like a dried out old sponge.

 

“You sound knackered,” Fern observes, cheerfully. “Maybe you need an ice cream too.”

 

“Nah, just some Portuguese Tarts, and I’m good to go,” you say, stifling a yawn. “I can’t believe I have to write ten thousand words on bloody Shakespeare! I mean, I love him, but, you know, there’s only so much I can take!”

 

“I don’t know why you’re stressing; we’ve got ages yet,” Fern says.

 

“Easy for you to say,” you laugh, getting to your feet. “You’ve probably finished yours already!”

 

“No, I haven’t,” she insists. “Well, not _all_ of it.”

 

You grin and pick up your cardigan. “Meet you guys in the caff in ten?”

 

“Right,” Fern agrees and then hangs up.

 

So ten minutes later, you’re all sitting quite happily in the cafe’ with coffee and pastries, chatting about anything _but_ work. After all, you’ve earned a break from it; you’ve been working diligently for the last two days.

 

“I closed my eyes last night when I went to bed and all I could see was that poster of Shakespeare, you know, that famous one,” you tell them.

 

Libby gives a mock gasp. “Does Harry know you’re thinking about someone else in your sleep?”

 

You all laugh. “How is he, anyway?” Clara asks, politely.

 

“He’s fine,” you tell them. “They’re in Rome now, but we keep phoning and Skyping as often as possible.”

 

“Rome?” Libby laughs. “By the time he gets back, he’ll be saying things like _Ciao Bella!”_

“And kissing everyone on both cheeks,” Fern grins.

 

“And cooking you pizza all the time,” Clara adds.

 

“I’ve no objections to that,” you smile. Even as you say it, though, you find yourself automatically wondering if Harry’s alright. He seemed much happier last time you spoke to him, and you wonder fleetingly if he and Simon made up that row they had. After all, Simon’s his manager, and he could just as easily ruin Harry as make him a star if he wanted to. You hope Harry didn’t upset him too much.

 

“You ok?” Fern asks, bringing you back to the present.

 

You hesitate and then nod. “Yeah, just...thinking about him, is all.”

 

“You look worried,” Fern persists.

 

You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Fern’s always been the most observant one in the group, and next to you, the most stubborn. “Ok, I’ll admit, I’m a bit worried about him.”

 

“Because he’s so far away from you?” Libby asks, taking a bite of her lemon slice. “I’m sure he won’t stray.”

 

“No, it’s not that,” you say. “He had a bit of a row with Simon a couple of days ago and he seemed a bit stressed afterwards. I mean, it’s probably just performing and everything getting on top of him and stuff, but still...you know.”

 

“God _, [Y/N],_ you sound like you’re turning into my mother,” Libby laughs.

 

“I sound like I’m turning into _my_ mother,” you say and everyone laughs.

 

“Managers and bands row all the time, though,” Clara says when you’ve all sobered up. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“How would you know?” Fern asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

“I read it in a magazine,” Clara answers. “It’s like actors; they must row with directors and stuff all the time, but the film still gets made.”

 

You have to agree with her there. “Yeah, it probably is just stress.”

 

“I remember when I did Performing Arts at college,” Libby says, “we all used to get really stressed out in rehearsals. People would be your best friend one minute and the next it was like you were trying to fight off a pack of angry Rottweilers armed with nothing but your script and a highlighter. Even me and my friend James used to get on each other’s nerves then, and we were thick as thieves other times.”

 

“Yeah, Harry probably bickers with the others too from time to time,” you agree, “although I’m having a hard time imagining Niall losing his temper with anyone.”

 

“No, he’d probably be the one provoking from the sidelines and getting punched by the others,” Fern agrees with a grin.

 

“Yeah, I think out of all of them, probably Louis or Zayn would lose their tempers most easily,” you agree. “And I know that it probably takes a lot to rile Harry up. I mean, we’ve never had an argument. It’s always been me yelling at him before and him just letting it wash off him and then teasing me about it.”

 

“Oh, so that’s why he had a hard time getting you to go out with him,” Libby grins.

 

You laugh. “Yeah, let’s just say that when we first met, I was far from nice to him. But he’s forgiven me.”

 

“Obviously,” Clara points out.

 

“So, I take it you guys had a night together after the concert, then?” Libby adds.

 

“Yeah, we hung out at their hotel for a bit,” you say.

 

“Right,” Fern teases. _“Hung out.”_

 

“Well, we did,” you say, quite truthfully. “We had a drink in the bar for a bit and met some of Zayn’s mates who’d come down for the gig, and then Niall suggested shots – oh, you guys need to see Niall when he’s drunk. He’s adorable; you just want to mother him.”

 

Your friends smile. “And then you went back to his room and made mad passionate love for hours, right?” Clara grins.

 

“How do you know that?” you ask in surprise.

 

“I don’t, but I do now,” she laughs, and you face-plant.

 

“Aw, I walked right into that one!” you moan. “I thought Megs might have told you.”

 

“Megs?” Fern’s eyes widen in surprise. “What was she doing there?”

 

“No,” you begin.

 

“What, were you having a threesome or something?” Libby jokes.

 

“Behave,” you laugh. “She phoned me up in the small hours and I thought she was Harry, and I kind of confessed about us being...intimate, you know, before I realised who I was actually talking to!”

 

The girls laugh. “Still, at least it wasn’t your mother,” Clara points out.

 

“Yeah, that would have really raised some questions,” you agree. “I’ve finally told her, by the way. About me and Harry.”

 

“Did she believe you?” Libby asks.

 

“Not at first,” you smile.

 

“Small wonder,” Fern grins. “I mean, if I had a daughter and she told me that she was dating a member of a worldwide famous boyband, I’d think she was either mad or making it up.”

 

“Or that someone had tricked her into thinking that they were someone famous,” Clara adds.

 

“Yeah,” Fern agrees.

 

You smile. “Well, anyway, I eventually managed to convince her that I was telling the truth and now Harry’s invited for dinner the second the tour’s finished.”

 

“Good luck with that,” Libby says. “I hate bringing boyfriends home to meet the parents.”

 

You all end up then in a conversation about your worst boyfriend-parent-dinner moments and you almost forget that you were worried about Harry. In fact by the time you eventually all leave and you head back to your flat, feeling perkier after a chat with the girls and a couple of Portuguese Tarts, your mind’s only on seeing him again when he gets back from the tour.

 

_Oh, God, don’t let Dad get him involved in a conversation about his opinions on the Royal Family or something! That’d be torture!_

_More torture than Mum trying to make stroganoff and adding so much pepper that it’s inedible?_

 

You sigh and shake your head, wondering why you were cursed with parents like yours.

 

Your flatmate Rebecca’s on her way out of the flat when you push open the door. “Aw, hey,” she greets you in her rural Scottish accent, “you’ve got a couple of letters in the kitchen.”

 

“Thanks, Bex,” you say, making your way in there and picking up the two envelopes. You head back to your room and examine them. One’s handwritten whilst the other’s got your address typed on a sticker. You open the handwritten one first and pull out, to your surprise, a postcard of the Eiffel Tower at sunset. Turning it over, you smile at the short but sweet message.

 

_Dear [Y/N],_

_Before you ask, this thing’s in an envelope because I didn’t want someone from the press getting hold of it and chasing you up; plus it’s a good idea because that way no one else can read it._

_By the time you get this, we’ll probably be out of Paris, even though I sent it first class, but that doesn’t really matter. I just want you know that I’m thinking of you every second I’m away from you and that I’ve decided to one day take you to Paris, maybe after we get back from tour, depending on when we’re both free. You really need to see it, [Y/N]; it’s beautiful. You’d love it here!_

_The guys say “hello” too, by the way. Running out of room now, so I’ll say “au revoir” for now and talk to you again as soon as possible._

_I love you_

_From Harry (with Louis, Liam, Zayn and Niall) XXXXXXX_

You beam, your heart practically melting as you run your fingers along the line of Xs he’s included. Seven. You hope that means he’ll be giving you seven kisses when he gets back. You prop the postcard up on your desk and then open the other envelope.

 

When you unfold the slip of paper that’s inside, however, your feel a cold shiver run down your spine. It’s a short message, made up of various letters from newspapers, like something from a Mafia movie or something.

 

_I only ever give people one warning. You’re no exception. Stay away from Harry, or you’ll certainly live to regret it. I'll make sure of that._

 


	10. "C'est La Vie"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a little stunned...but Harry can help remedy that!

 

It takes a good ten seconds for what it is you’re seeing to sink in and then you drop the letter as though it’s just given you an electric shock. You actually know what that feels like, you’ve had one before, just a mild on when you and some friends were playing on their farm out in the country and you accidently touched the fence, it was just like someone snapping the back of your hand with a ruler. But somehow this note has shocked you more.

 

You’re stunned. There’s no other word for it. And you’re not really someone who shocks easily. Fleetingly you’re reminded of the day of that awful interview when you thought that Harry was publicly dumping you to get back at you for how you’d treated him when you first met; remembering that it felt like a kick in the ribs more than anything. This felt similar, only instead of feeling upset, you were feeling scared.

 

You realise that you’re shaking slightly as you sink into your seat. The last time you were shaking so much was right before your application to Uni interview and after that was over you had always assumed that the next time you shook so much would be the day of your Graduation. Common sense finally kicks in and you tear your eyes away from the threatening words to pick up the envelope they came in. You turn it upside down and shake it, although what you’re expecting to find is beyond you. If this was The Godfather, it’d be something dead, although obviously no horse’s head in the world is going to fit in an envelope that small, but perhaps a dead flower or a spider or something. It wouldn’t shock you. But there’s nothing.

 

You turn the envelope over again and read the label. It just has your name, _[Y/N] [Y/L/N]_ followed by your flat address, typed in what looks like Times New Roman font –

 

 _Wow! You are_ so sad _to know that!_

_Shut up, this is serious!_

_You’re telling me!_

 

-in black, with no other indication of where it’s come from. Even the stamp is a British one, and there is a postmark of some kind but it’s been smudged illegible either by the postman who delivered it or yesterday’s rain. You presume the latter.

 

_Where the hell has it come from?_

_More importantly,_ who _the hell has it come from?_

 

Gingerly, you take up the letter between your thumb and forefinger, as though it might bite you if not handled with care, or worse, explode, and drop it onto the desk, where it folds open and you read it again, praying that you were imagining what it said last time and that it’s really some harmless prank, maybe played by your flatmates to get on your nerves or something.

 

_I only ever give people one warning. You’re no exception. Stay away from Harry, or you’ll certainly live to regret it. I'll make sure of that._

You shudder, and suddenly wish that Sherlock Holmes was a real detective, because that way you might be able to find out the answers you want quickly. Genius that he is, he’d even be able to tell you which newspaper the clippings came from. But sadly, this is real life, not a work by Arthur Conan Doyle, and you’re stuck scratching your head and wondering what to do.

_This has got to be some kind of joke._

_I don’t think so. If it is, it’s a very cruel one._

_Who’d send something like this anyway?_

You suddenly sit up a little straighter as you realise something. Aside from the other 1D members, your classmates, your friends and Cosma, and also you suspect a few more of your Uni lecturers, and now your parents too, no one knows you’re Harry Styles’ girlfriend. And those are the only people who’d have your address. Who else could get hold of it?

 

And why?

 

You try to think about it logically. Someone doesn’t want you to be with Harry any longer, and you begin to list off the possibilities one by one in your head.

_It could be hate mail from a fan. Some of those girls can get crazily obsessive about celebrities they like._

_But none of the fans know me. I mean, there could be any number of [Y/N]’s in Cardiff and they don’t know my surname, let alone my address. Even if they did, wouldn’t they have sent one to every [Y/N] in the phonebook? Hell, am I even_ _in_ _the phonebook? No, it can’t be a fan. If it was, wouldn’t they be more likely to scrawl a message on your flat wall or something rather than send it through the post?_

_Ok, scratch that theory, what’s next?_

_Megs and Izzy and Ollie all like One Direction, but none of them would ever do anything like this! Ollie’s far too sweet and anyway he likes Niall, and Megan likes Louis and Izzy likes Zayn – no! What am I thinking of? I might not have known them all my life but I know they’d never do a thing like this to anyone, least of all me! I mean, why would they? No motive._

_Same for the girls; not that I’d ever suspect them of doing anything like this._

_Same for Liam, Louis, Zayn and Niall. Again, why would they? They all seemed to like me and I can’t imagine any of them have the hots for Harry! Niall might be a cuddler but I can tell which way he swings. Same for the rest of them. No, again, no motive._

_And my parents would certainly never do anything like this._

_You hesitate, remembering then that Harry’s parents know about you too, but you quickly scrap that idea along with the others. After all, they’ve not met you yet._

_Which leaves...?_

_Any of my other classmates? Hm. Well, I suppose if one of them happened to be a fan and was getting jealous. Maybe._

_I doubt it would be a lecturer. Let’s face it, half of them haven’t even heard of One Direction and I can’t imagine it being Cosma. After all, she wants me and Harry to be together; she’s Italian, she loves romance!_

You prop your elbows on the table and rest your chin in your hands. It could easily be one of your other classmates. The question is, which one? In lectures, it’s not just your class you’re in with, unlike seminars; lectures include several different groups from all over the Humanities Department, people who are studying English alongside other things, like Psychology.

 

That’s a big help, you reflect; you don’t know those people. It could be anybody.

 

You don’t want to think badly of your classmates, but you can’t see it being anyone else. It fits. They could have easily got your address from the Uni itself; maybe they could have tricked a lecturer into thinking they needed it for something, or else one of the really smart ones could have hacked into a computer and found everyone’s personal details, and picked yours out from there. Alternatively, it could have been someone you shared a bus ride with and they could have followed you in the direction of your flat. Or they could have even got it from one of your other friends; maybe not the girls, but Ollie or someone, again tricking them into spilling it by accident. The more you thought about it, the more you realised how easy it was _to_ get hold of someone’s personal details.

 

It was like seeing the perfect murder.

 

Your mobile suddenly rings and you jump almost a foot in the air. Calm down, _[Y/N],_ you tell yourself, as you answer it, warily, not even thinking to check the Caller ID first.

 

“Hello?” you say, tentatively.

 

“Hey, _[Y/N]!”_

 

“Aw, Harry!” you say in relief, running a hand through your hair. “Hey! Sorry, I wasn’t looking at my Caller ID. I thought you might have been trying to sell me something.”

 

Harry laughs. “Nope, just phoning to hear your voice.”

 

“Stop trying to melt my heart,” you smile, fondly.

 

“Sorry.” Harry sounds like he’s smiling too. “I just miss you, is all.”

 

“I miss you too, Puppy,” you say, softly. “Oh, hey, your postcard came today,” you add.

 

“Yeah? Great. I did wonder if you’d get it while we were still on tour or not. I mean, you never know with postage, do you?”

 

“No, you never do.”

 

You hesitate. You’ve no idea whether to tell him about the other note or not. On the one hand, it does concern him, you suppose; maybe if he does have some kind of obsessed fan after him who wants you out of the way, you should probably warn him. On the other hand...something about this makes you feel that it needs to be kept secret, for now anyway. You don’t actually want to worry him, after all he’s got enough on his plate what with this tour and the stress that that can bring...

 

 _“[Y/N]?_ Are you ok?”

 

“Hm?” You snap back to the present at once, a lie tripping easily off the tip of your tongue. “Yeah, sorry, I just had the horrible feeling that I’ve got a library book due back today, but it’s tomorrow it’s due back. Sorry, all this studying’s getting on top of me.”

 

“Mm, I feel the same,” Harry replies, understandingly. “Maybe we should both take a break.”

 

“Well, I had one just now,” you say, stifling a yawn. “Me and the girls went to the caff and-”

 

“No, I mean we take a break together,” Harry replies, sounding slightly suggestive and your eyes widen.

 

“Oh!” You say, slipping into seductive mode. _“That_ kind of break! Right!”

 

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks.

 

“My [y/f/c] dress over leggings,” you reply, getting to your feet and kicking off your shoes. “And I was wearing flat black shoes with them, but now, oh dear me, I seem to have stepped out of them.”

 

Harry laughs, softly, his end and you just know he’s imagining you undressing.

 

“And I think it’s really getting too hot in here with all these clothes on,” you add, slowly, shimmying out of your leggings. “Is it hot over there, Harry, in Rome?”

 

“Extremely,” Harry replies, sounding just as seductive as you. “In fact I discarded my shirt right before I phoned you.”

 

“No fair, you’re already ahead of me,” you tease, having to juggle the phone for a second as you wriggle out of your dress. “Oh, where are you when I need you to help undress me, Puppy? Bloody Rome, that’s where!”

 

“Dear me, I’m so selfish being on tour when my girlfriend needs me,” Harry teases back.

 

“Bad Puppy,” you laugh, hesitating as you clamber onto the bed. “Your door’s locked, right?”

 

“Of course, _[Y/N]!_ I’m not daft!”

 

“Could have fooled me!”

 

“Oi!”

 

You laugh again and murmur “So...if I was over there with you right now, what would you do to me?”

 

“I’d kiss you completely senseless,” Harry murmurs.

 

“Mm, and then what?” Your fingers have already found that sweet spot in your core and you’re imagining that it’s Harry touching you there. You’ve got a feeling that he’s already dealing with his own arousal, given the fact that his voice seems to have dropped an octave or two as he murmurs “Then I’d undress you and kiss you in that way that you like, make you so wet and ready for me and leave you completely breathless.”

 

“Mm...” you murmur back, feeling him doing it in your mind. “Are you as turned on as I am, Harry?”

 

“You’ve no idea,” Harry groans back. You hear him stuttering a little and you smile, knowing that he is indeed taking care of his own arousal.

 

“If you were here, I’d make you come so hard,” you whisper, tantalizingly. “Pinned down, I’d have you begging for it.”

 

 _“[Y/N]...”_ Harry sighs, and then stammers “I can’t hold it back much longer.”

 

“Then, let go,” you breathe as seductively as you can manage. “Let go for me, Harry.”

 

Your own orgasm comes in a great rippling wave that leaves you breathless and you hear Harry gasp his end of the phone. “God, I miss you...” he whispers.

 

“I miss you too, Puppy,” you sigh, basking in the aftermath of your orgasm. “I miss you being inside me and kissing me all over and making me come like this.”

 

“Alright, stop, you’re in serious danger of turning me on again,” Harry laughs, breathlessly.

 

You laugh too. “I can’t believe I won’t see you again for at least another two months,” you add, mournfully.

 

“I know,” Harry agrees. “But I promise that I’ll hotfoot it back to Cardiff the second we’re back in Britain. I don’t care if I have to run all the way from London.”

 

“Harry,” you smile, your heart fluttering a little.

 

“I’m serious. I’d walk to the ends of the Earth and back for you, _[Y/N],”_ Harry says, and you believe him, because you know that he’ll only ever tell you the truth.

 

“I know you would,” you say, your heart racing as you feel a twinge of guilt for not telling him about the note. “I’d do the same for you. Any day.”

 

There’s a knock Harry’s end of the phone and he mutters “Shit!” before calling out “Hold on a sec!”

 

“Is that the guys?” you ask. “Have you got to go?”

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry sighs. “I thought I had more time to spare.”

 

“It’s ok,” you smile. “Go on, go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Harry smiles. “I love you, _[Y/N].”_

 

“I love you too, Harry,” you say and then you both hang up.

 

You sigh and run your hands over your face. Harry’s always so honest with you. You know you should have told him about the note. And you will.

 

Just as soon as you figure out who it’s from.

 


	11. "Let's Get Married"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your friends start planning your wedding for you...and Harry finally makes a decision he can live with.

You have to wait until Sunday to get any answers, because Sunday’s the day that everyone’s back from home after spending most of Reading Week with their families, and you can call an Emergency Meeting.

 

You actually tap a note onto everyone’s Facebook and Twitter pages that goes “Emergency Meeting at the Caff, 1 pm, Sunday, Be There on Pain of Torture” with a little scary-face emoticon to go with it so that they get the message of how urgent this all is. Everyone replies before the chosen day that they’ll be there, and so come Sunday, you quickly make your way over to the cafe’ after archery and order a large Detoxer, a Panini with mozzarella and pesto and three Portuguese Tarts - yes, three! Your waiter asks if everything’s ok when you order, and you tell him that you’re in dire need of a pick-me-up.

 

Once everyone’s arrived, and ordered for themselves, you wait for them to get settled before you get down to business. It’s Izzy who finally asks the question “So, what’s up? Why’d you want us all here?”

 

You take a deep breath and unfold the note. By now you’ve read the printed words upon it so many times that they’ve stopped being sinister. “Couple of days ago, I got a postcard from Harry-”

 

“Aw!” Megan interrupts.

 

You smile. “Yeah, from Paris. Anyway-”

 

“Aw, I’d love to go to Paris someday,” Ollie interrupts. “They’re very fashionable.”

 

“I thought that was Milan?” Fern frowns.

 

“No, you’re thinking of Venice,” Libby says.

 

“Guys!” you say, firmly. “Focus!” They all look at you and you go on. “Look, this isn’t actually about Harry, ok? When I got it, there was another letter with it and, well...this is it,” you finish lamely and lay the letter down in front of them for all to see. You watch their reactions carefully and immediately deduce that none of them could have had anything to do with it because they’re genuinely stunned and you know for a fact that none of them are _that_ good at acting.

 

Finally, Clara picks it up, gingerly, as if, like you, she’s afraid it’ll leap up and try to bite her like that book in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and holds it at arm’s length with a worried frown. “Well,” she says, with a nervous laugh, “it’s got to be just some...obsessed fan, or something? Right? Trying to scare you?”

 

“Don’t be daft, Clars,” Libby says. “If it _was_ from a fan, it’d say something like “Hands off Harry, he’s mine,” or whatever. This sounds more like the kind of thing you’d get in a detective novel from the killer.”

 

“Or the Godfather,” Ollie agrees.

 

You shudder. “That’s what worries me. It’s definitely been written by an adult; I mean an older adult,” you add as Fern opens her mouth to point out that technically you’re _all_ adults here at this table. “Like one of our lecturers or something.”

 

“Can’t quite see Geoff writing something like this, though,” Izzy says. “Or any of them, really. I mean, it’s teenagers and people of our generation who are into One Direction, after all, not people the same age as our parents.”

 

“Have you told him about this?” Fern asks you.

 

You shake your head. “I don’t want to worry him,” you say.

 

“But, what if someone’s following him around and he doesn’t know?” Megan asks. “You should warn him if he’s got a stalker.”

 

The irony of Harry, a boy you once accused of stalking you, having a stalker of his own causes you to inadvertently burst out laughing. The others glance at you in alarm and you quickly cut it out. “Sorry,” you say, fixing your face into a serious expression again, “just remembering something.”

 

Clara thinks for a moment. “It wouldn’t be from someone in his family, would it? I mean, you’ve not met them yet.”

 

“No,” you say at once. “He said that his parents really want to meet me. I mean, from what he’s told me, they seem nice enough.”

 

“What about his sister?” Megan asks. “You don’t think she’s, like, sexually obsessed with him or something?”

 

“Urgh, that is _disgusting!”_ Izzy says, throwing her stirrer at Megan. “Who’d _want_ to have sex with their own _brother?”_

 

“It happens,” Megan insists.

 

“Yeah, in TV shows and fanfictions, get real,” Izzy retorts, shaking her head.

 

“Oh, great,” Libby sighs. “Now I’m having visions of _my_ brother hitting on _me!_ Thanks a lot, Megs!”

 

Megan grins, guiltily. “Sorry.”

 

“Nah, it’s definitely a bloke that’s written it,” Ollie says, taking the note from Clara.

 

“How do you know?” asks Fern, with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Please, darling, it’s got the classic male stamp all over it,” Ollie replies. “Far to masculine to be written by a woman.”

 

“And _you’d_ know all about masculinity, of course?” Clara teases.

 

Ollie grinned. “I’ve been out with enough real men before to know this stuff, babe.”

 

“So, we’re down to fifty percent of the population of the entire world,” you say, trying to bring them back to the matter at hand.

 

“Still got the envelope?” Fern asks. “Where’s the stamp from?”

 

“The UK,” you sigh, holding up the envelope for them to see. “And the postmark’s all smudged, so I can’t read it properly.”

 

“Let’s have a go,” says Ollie, whipping out his glasses.

 

Izzy giggles. “You look like the Doctor doing that.”

 

Ollie grins and then squints at the envelope as you hold it up for him to see. “Let’s see...um...” He blinks and frowns, looking like a confused owl and you all giggle. “I think it says Poste at the bottom. Poste, anyone?”

 

“That sounds French,” says Libby, whipping out her laptop, which of course she always carries everywhere with her and immediately logging into Google. “Hold on.”

 

“Well, I think it says that,” Ollie says, handing the envelope back to you. “Or it could be Paste. But it looks more like an “O” than an “A.”

 

“Yeah, it _is_ French,” Libby reports. “It means Post, obviously.”

 

You frown. “Wait, if it came at the same time as Harry’s postcard-”

 

“No!” Megan shakes her head. “No, I know what you’re thinking, but it couldn’t be one of the others! They like you!”

 

“Mm,” you nod.

 

“Anyway, could you see any of them sending you something like this?” Libby asks. “I mean, come on. Even if they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t send this. People don’t do that to their friend’s partners.”

 

“She’s right,” Fern agrees. “I once went out with a bloke whose best friend didn’t take to me at all, but he put up with me for his mate’s sake. He didn’t try to scare me off.”

 

“Well, whoever it is who’s doing this,” you say, taking the note from Ollie, “they can think again. There’s no way I’m giving up Harry.”

 

“Good,” Ollie gushes. “Because I was hoping to be your wedding planner.”

 

You laugh. “If, when and whoever it’s with, the job’s always yours, Ollie!”

 

“Yay!” He leans across the table to high-five you. “But when it happens, you have got to sort out your hair, love!”

 

“Cheeky!” you say, throwing a used napkin at him.

 

“You know, I saw this gorgeous wedding dress the other day back home,” Megan adds. “And the bridesmaids dresses were this gorgeous shade of pale blue with little thin straps and flowing skirts; they were amazing.”

 

“Yeah, we could all get involved,” Libby agrees, grinning. “One of us could be on flowers-”

 

“Roses and baby’s breath,” Clara interjects. “The classics, with maybe some bluebells thrown in.”

 

“Fine, and then maybe Sam could be on catering, and Fern could sort the cake-” Libby goes on.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” you laugh. “Aren’t you guys getting a little ahead of yourselves? I mean, we haven’t even done the meet-the-parents bit yet and you’re already planning on us getting married?”

 

“You’re a cute couple!” Izzy insists.

 

“So are Clara and Sam, but you’re not sitting here planning _their_ wedding!” you point out.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Libby grins. “Anyway, we didn’t even get onto the music yet.”

 

Even as she says it, you hear one of the waitresses say to her co-worker “Oh, turn it up, will you? I love this song,” and suddenly One Thing is filtering through the speakers. Your friends turn to you with great big grins on their faces and you begin to laugh, but with fondness, as you pick out your boyfriend’s voice amongst the other four and you’re all transported back to that day when he sang it to win you back.

 

“Ok, that’s got to be your First Dance song!” Megan squeals.

 

You shake your head as your friends continue on a train of conversation about what other kinds of music you should have to dance to, as well as venues, outfits, food, flowers and all other things wedding-related, regardless of the fact that it’s way too soon for you and Harry to be thinking about such things.

 

“Hey, let’s get Graduation out of the way first,” you attempt to protest, but Ollie just says “Yeah, yeah,” waving absently in our direction and then goes back to talking about smoked salmon and spinach parcels. You roll your eyes and send Harry a quick text.

 

_Heads up, my mates are planning our wedding for us! Sorry! They seem to have got wedding fever on the brain atm!_

A second later, rather than getting a text, your phone rings, and everyone cuts their conversation short and looks over at you.

 

“The Groom?” Izzy teases.

 

“Pack it in, you lot,” you say, fondly, before you answer. “Hello?”

 

“Sorry, have I been asleep this past week or something?” Harry laughs.

 

“No, somehow we seem to have flashforwarded into the future,” you reply with a grin. “I apologise profusely.”

 

“That’s alright,” Harry smiles. “I had Niall doing the same for me the other day too. He thinks we should have it at the Vatican.”

 

“Really?” you ask. “Because _my_ friends are thinking Bath, but then I guess they’ve got no imaginations.”

 

“Hey!” Ollie exclaims.

 

Harry laughs. “I heard that!”

 

“Oh, hold on,” you add as Megan starts waving her hands at you, “they want to say “Hello.” I’ll put you on Loudspeaker.”

 

You place the phone on the table and hit the right button. “Hey!” the others all say, talking over one another with their general greetings.

 

“Hey,” Harry says on the other end. “So, let me see if I can remember everyone; Libby, Fern, Clara, easy, and I heard Ollie just now...is that Megan and Izzy I can hear too?”

 

“Yes, it’s us,” Megan giggles, giddily. You’d think she’d get over being starstruck by them by now, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“How’s everything going?” Libby asks, politely.

 

“It’s going well so far, thanks for asking,” Harry replies. “We finish up here in Munich tomorrow, and then it’s off to L.A.”

 

“L.A?” Ollie grins. “Think you’ll bump into any Hollywood A-Listers?”

 

“Probably, although they’re probably harder to recognise off the red carpet,” Harry jokes and you all laugh. Then, you hear someone say “Harry?” on his end of the phone. It sounds like Simon. “Oh, hang on,” Harry says, and then you hear a very faint “Can I have a word, please?” and Harry sighs. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. This is kind of important,” he says to you lot, and you quickly pick up the phone and switch Loudspeaker off.

 

“That’s ok,” you say. “I’ll talk to you later?”

 

“Hopefully,” Harry smiles. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” you whisper, resisting the urge to call him “Puppy” in front of your friends.

 

“Tell the others “Bye” for me.”

 

“Yeah, I will.”

 

“Bye, _[Y/N].”_

 

He sounds so regretful as he says it, like he doesn’t want to let you go, and your heart twists a little. “Bye, Harry,” you say, and you’re about to hang up when he says, suddenly and rather meaningfully, “I love you. And nothing’s ever going to change that, ever.”

 

You frown and turn slightly away from the others so that they can’t hear you properly. “Harry, is everything ok?” you ask, concerned.

 

“Yeah.” You get the feeling it isn’t but he can’t tell you so for some reason, so you don’t push it. “I’ll talk to you tonight, ok?”

 

“Ok,” you say, uncertainly.

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

You hang up and glance at the others, who all look concerned. “Everything ok?” Clara asks.

 

“I don’t know,” you answer.

 

XXX

 

**Harry’s POV:**

 

“I love you,” I say.

 

“I love you too,” _[Y/N]_ whispers back.

 

“Tell the others “Bye” for me,” I add as an afterthought.

 

“Yeah, I will,” she says, and in all honestly, all I want to do right now is jump on the next flight home, take her in my arms again and kiss her. But since there’s no chance of that happening any time soon, I have to settle for just saying “Bye, _[Y/N].”_ As she says “Bye, Harry,” back I catch Simon still watching me, although he’s pretending that he’s not, doing that fake staring-into-space look but really looking and listening in on my conversation with _[Y/N]._ I feel a twinge of anger. How dare he? Isn’t it bad enough he’s trying to ruin my life with her as it is?

 

“I love you,” I say, meaningfully, knowing that Simon can hear me say it. “And nothing’s ever going to change that, ever.”

 

I see Simon scowl slightly as I say it, although the next second his face is neutral again. I watch him carefully as _[Y/N]_ asks “Harry, is everything ok?”

 

_Jeez, I want to kiss her right now!_

 

“Yeah,” I say, even though it isn’t. “I’ll talk to you tonight, ok?”

 

“Ok.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

I hang up and then turn to Simon. “Well?” I prompt, hoping that I sound like I’m losing patience with him, but not so much that he’ll start shouting at me. That’ll just bring the others running and stir up some questions that I’m in no mood to answer right now.

 

“Do you know what day it is, Harry?” Simon asks.

 

I blink. “Sunday,” I say, and then I remember. “The end of the week.”

 

“I trust you’ve come to a decision,” Simon says, stepping up to me, arms folded.

 

I take a deep breath. “I’m not splitting up with _[Y/N],_ and I’m not choosing between her and the guys. I don’t know what this thing is that you have against her, but quite frankly I don’t care, because I love her, so if you want to kick me out of the band, then fine, I’ll get my stuff, but when push comes to shove I choose both of them.”

 

What happens next completely throws me. Simon doesn’t shout, nor does he look angry, or regretful, but quite the opposite. He laughs. And I just stare at him, wondering if he’s gone mental and whether I should call for a doctor or something, when he finally sobers up.

 

“Harry,” he smiles, “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you really are something else.”

 

I frown. “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t think I was serious, did you?” He claps my shoulder under his large hand, with a force that almost knocks me over, although I don’t think he meant to do that. “Harry, you make this band what it is. Of course I wouldn’t kick you out.”

 

I stare at him. “Well...then what the hell has this all been about?”

 

He seems oblivious to my anger. “I had a feeling you’d choose both in the end. If your girl means that much to you, then fine. Be with her. But stay with the band too.”

 

I wonder if he’s hit his head or something. Still, since he’s being so reasonable all of a sudden, I don’t argue. I’m actually waiting for the catch. “Thanks, I intend to do both,” I say, stiffly, watching for his reaction.

 

To my surprise, he simply smiles, nods and drops his hand from my shoulder. “Come on,” he says over his shoulder, “you’re on in an hour, don’t forget.”

 

I watch him go and suddenly it hits me that this isn’t over. Simon’s up to something. I don’t trust him. I feel my hands curl into fists as I take a deep breath. Whatever he’s got planned, he should know that I’m not going to give up easily. And I’m certainly not going to let him tear me away from _[Y/N]._

 

I’d rather die than do that.


	12. "You Drive Me Crazy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't get Harry out of your mind...again!

“Look at this.”

 

Megan promptly shoves the newspaper under your nose before you even have a chance to look up. The words One Direction flash before your eyes.

 

“Honestly, I can’t get a break from my boyfriend for a minute, can I?” you joke.

 

“It’s what comes of dating a celebrity, love,” Ollie grins.

 

You smile and then read the bit Megan’s pointing to.

 

“One Direction’s Harry Styles opens up a bit more about his mysterious girlfriend when asked about What Makes You Beautiful. “I always dedicate that one to her,” he says in a press conference during their European tour. “I can’t not. It’s _our_ song. Each time I sing it, I’m reminded of her.”

 

“Aw!” the girls coo, crowding over your shoulder to read it.

 

“You’re getting married in the morning,” Ollie starts singing, teasingly, “Ding dong, the bells are going to chime...”

 

You fold up the newspaper and whack at him with it. “Behave, Ollie!” you say.

 

“Help!” Ollie jokes, backing away from him. “Assault! Death by newspaper imminent! Help!”

 

“Careful, _[Y/N],”_ Fern adds with a grin. “You could give him a seriously nasty papercut that way!”

 

“She’s a psycho, I tell you,” Ollie mock-whispers to Izzy. “It’s all to do with that boyfriend of hers, you know.”

 

“Right, come here you!” you say, advancing on him and Ollie quickly runs around the desk and almost collides with Geoff as everyone around you starts laughing.

 

“Steady there, Ollie,” Geoff says, but not unkindly. He’s got a sense of humour underneath all that mock-strict teacher persona, has Geoff, so Ollie knows he’s not in trouble.

 

“Sorry, Geoff,” Ollie replies, “but I would just like to say, for the record, she started it.”

 

He points to you. You raise the newspaper in a mock threatening manner and Geoff chuckles. “Well, it’s nice to see that you lot are taking an interest in current events at least.”

 

“Celeb gossip, more like,” Libby corrects him.

 

“Libs!” you hiss.

 

Geoff raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Ah, yes, the Famous Boyfriend. But might I suggest that you carry on with that when class is over, _[Y/N],_ and we’ll focus on Kiss of the Spiderwoman instead?”

 

“Yes, Geoff,” you say, meekly, even though you know that you’re not in any trouble either. Geoff’s too nice for that, you couldn’t imagine him ever losing his temper with anyone, much less sending you a threatening note telling you to stop seeing Harry.

 

It was Thursday, a whole four days after your meeting with the others in the cafe’ and you were still nowhere nearer to figuring out who could have sent the note to you. You did wonder briefly if it might be one of your flatmates, after all they could have overheard one of your conversations with him and recognised his voice, or even seen him slipping in an out of your room, or the kitchen, occasionally and not said anything. You suddenly find yourself hoping that they haven’t overheard the two of you having sex.

 

“Hey, you ok?” Fern asks as you slid into your seat and pick up your book. “Your face has gone red.”

 

“Has it?” you ask, feeling your cheeks with the back of your hand.

 

“Oh-oh,” Libby grins. “Somebody’s thinking about the Boyfriend.”

 

“Behave,” you giggle.

 

“Alright, ladies,” Geoff smiles, “and Ollie. That’s enough.”

 

“What do you mean _“and_ Ollie?” Libby laughs. “Ollie _is_ one of the ladies!”

 

“Madame! I resent that remark!” Ollie says in a melodramatically camp tone with his hands on his hips and even Geoff laughs. Thankfully it’s taken the pressure off you as you all set about talking about Manuel Puig and the significance of Nazi propaganda mentioned in his most famous book. Your mind, however, is elsewhere.

 

You dismiss the notion that it was one of your flatmates, because you know them well enough to know that none of them have a crush on any of the members of One Direction and also then that bit about the postmark on the envelope being from France doesn’t fit, since they’ve all been home this week. In fact, as far as you know, none of them really venture out of Wales all that much and certainly not lately.

 

 _Unless Ollie read the postmark wrong. After all, it_ was _smudged._

 

_But then what else would it say? Paste? Past? Parts? Pots? None of those make sense. No, Ollie must be right, it must be from France._

_So then who the hell_ did _send it to you?_

_I wish I knew, Mate! I wish I knew!_

_Oh, great, now I’ve given my voice of reason a name too! I really must be going crackers!_

You shake your head and get on with concentrating on your lesson. Eventually, you all leave with the task of creating a piece of writing yourselves that tells a short story through conversation, the way Puig did in his book. Well, you reflect, that shouldn’t be too hard for you. You have mental conversations with yourself all the time anyway, all you need to do is write one down.

 

_I wonder what Harry’s up to right now._

_Probably more rehearsals._

_How does that boy get so much energy?_

_All those bananas?_

_Probably._

_Is he thinking about me right now?_

_Of course he is! That’s all he ever seems to think about, you fool!_

_I wish I was with him right now, snuggled up in his arms, he’d be all nice and warm and we’d kiss and he’d say something sweet that would make me love him even more and then we’d probably start undressing each other and then-_

_Whoa, [Y/N]! You’re still in Uni!_

“[Y/N]?”

 

“Huh?” You look up, realising that Clara’s talking to you. “Sorry?”

 

“I said, are you coming to the Shop with me?” she repeats, referring to the Uni Shop situated just by the front doors, opposite the canteen. Even though you all eat in the SU Bar, you usually just grab a sandwich or a snack from the Shop and eat it with the girls rather than order a big meal at lunch time. Clara just goes to get a chocolate bar or something for her “dessert” usually following a hamburger with cheese or a jacket potato with baked beans.

 

“Oh, yeah,” you stammer.

 

“You’re miles away today,” Libby smiles.

 

“Well, what do you expect? She’s in love,” Fern laughs.

 

“Alright, you guys,” you smile, fondly. “See you in a bit.”

 

You and Clara head to the Shop. The place doesn’t just stock sandwiches and snacks, it also sells magazines and papers and emergency things like stationary supplies, packet meals and Pot Noodles and things like that for those who live on campus, batteries, medicines and even cigarettes and alcohol. You just stick to the necessities, however, so does Clara.

 

“Are you worried about that note?” she asks, quietly, as you both stand debating what chocolate to buy.

 

“A little,” you confess. “I mean, I haven’t had any others or anything, so it could just be a one-off thing, right?” Clara nods. “But it’s still a bit scary, isn’t it? When someone sends you something like that?”

 

“Maybe you should tell the police,” Clara says.

 

Before you can stop yourself, you’ve burst out laughing, and simply because what she just said reminded you of Izzy saying the exact same thing when you told her about Harry “stalking” you right before you got together. A few people turn to stare and even the shopkeeper, who knows you, looks at you a little oddly. Sobering up, you turn back to Clara. “Sorry, Clar, wasn’t laughing at your idea, honest. But even if I did, what could they do? I mean, I know it’s a threat, but so far nothing’s been carried out.”

 

“Yet,” Clara points out. “How do you know that it’s not just an empty threat or something, _[Y/N]?_ Whoever did this knows where you live, remember?”

 

That’s a point. You swallow and choose an ordinary bar of Dairy Milk. “Well...” you begin, and then a little more firmly, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m not living in a Mafia movie. This is real life. People don’t do this in real life.”

 

“Of course they do,” Clara insists. “Stalkers and that. Don’t you read the papers?”

 

“Only when there’s something in them worth reading,” you say, paying for your stuff.

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ Clara says, in a slightly nagging tone which somehow reminds you of Harry. In a way it makes you suddenly want him.

 

“Clar, you sound like my Mum,” you sigh.

 

Clara pauses to pay for her purchases, but the second you’re both out of the shop, she says in a reasonable tone “Harry would want you to be careful, wouldn’t he?” You know that she’s right but before you can say anything, she goes on “I really think you need to tell him about this.”

 

“Yeah,” you sigh in defeat. “You’re right. But, maybe I should wait until he gets back. I don’t want to have to tell him over the phone.”

 

“Fine, but in the meantime, watch your back,” Clara agrees.

 

“Ok, I’ll carry my bow with me everywhere,” you say and the pair of you start giggling.

_Remember when Harry took you on your first date and you told him about archery? You remember how interested he was? Maybe you should try and talk him into taking it up-?_

_Oi, shut up, will you?_

_What?_

_I could be in serious danger of getting turned on if I think about Harry anymore! And I’ve got another lecture after lunch!_

_Ok, sorry! Geez!_

_Just shut up, ok?_

It’s no good, though. Harry’s in your mind once again, just like when you first started dating him and he’s all you can think about. Joining in a conversation with your mates becomes increasingly difficult when all you want to do is run home and have phone sex with Harry.

 

When you finally get back home again, you do just that.

 

The days pass like that, settling into a pattern of you spending countless hours, when you’re meant to be studying, dreaming about Harry instead. It gets so much that, come Sunday, you decide to skip archery, even though it’s a nice day, and phone your boyfriend in the hope that he’s got some free time at last.

 

You’re in luck, it seems.

 

“Hello?” Harry yawns, sleepily.

 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you ask, apologetically.

 

“Oh, no, I wasn’t asleep,” he insists, in the tone of a very bad liar.

 

You laugh. “Harry, face it, you’re no relation to Loki.”

 

He laughs. “Alright, so you saw through that one. Sorry. I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

 

“Oh, I don’t,” you say, casually, propping your feet up on the desk. “Call it payback for the time you woke me up at quarter to five in the morning that time.”

 

“Fair enough,” he grins. You imagine that his hair must be super fluffy right now, the way it always looks when he’s just woken up. “So, in the words of Joey Tribbiani, how you doing? Wait, shouldn’t you be in archery right now?”

 

“What, and miss an opportunity to talk to my boyfriend?” you smile. “Anyway, I’ve not been able to concentrate on Uni these last few days, and if I miss a target in _this_ state I could end up hurting someone.”

 

“What state would that be?” Harry sounds like he’s frowning.

 

“The Can’t-Get-My-Incredibly-Cute-Boyfriend-Who-Happens-To-Be-A-Popstar-Out-Of-My-Head state,” you reply.

 

“Hey, no one forced you to go out with me,” Harry grins and then, “Oh, wait.” You burst out laughing as he adds _“I_ did, didn’t I?”

 

“Gently persuaded, I think is the term, not forced,” you giggle.

 

“Have you always been so good with words?” Harry asks, cheekily.

 

“Oh, Harry Styles, are you flirting with me? What would your girlfriend say?” you tease with a mock gasp.

 

You both laugh. “I miss you,” Harry says. “You’ve been on my mind all day. And all night.”

 

“Aw,” you say. “I saw that thing you said to the papers, by the way, about our song. Everyone in class thought that was adorable.”

 

“Guess I’m just a sucker for romance,” Harry smiles.

 

You sigh, longingly. “When are you coming home? I need a break from all this studying.”

 

“You had one last week with me,” Harry reminds you.

 

“I need another one,” you insist, stubbornly.

 

He laughs, softly. “I promise you that the second we’re done with the tour, I’m all yours again. Can you hang in there without me for another six weeks?”

 

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?” you sigh, fondly. Then, you brighten up. “So...this means that we’ll have to have lots of make-up sex to fill in for all we’re going to miss with you being away, right?”

 

“Right,” Harry agrees with a grin. “I’m going to pin you down and ravish you.”

 

“Excuse me?” you laugh. “Not if I pin _you_ down and ravish _you_ first, Puppy!”

 

“Mm,” Harry agrees, “I like the sound of that.”

 

You hesitate before saying “Harry?”

 

“Yeah, _[Y/N]?”_

 

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, slowly, “about what you said to me at the hotel...and, well, maybe we could...experiment a bit. When you get back.”

 

There’s a pause and then Harry says _“[Y/N],_ you don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable with it or anything-”

 

“No,” you interrupt, gently. “No, I think I’d like to try it, just to see. I mean, you know everything I like in bed, so maybe we should try something you like.”

 

“You’d really do that for me?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s on the verge of tears.

 

“Of course I would,” you say. “If that’s ok.”

 

“Yeah, it’s more than ok,” Harry says, his tone trembling with how touched he is by your selflessness. “You’re amazing, do you know that? Have I ever told you that before?”

 

“Frequently, but I do love hearing it,” you smile.

 

You talk for ages with him. It’s nice to be able to have a proper long talk with him that doesn’t get interrupted for ages by rehearsals or the actual gig or Simon wanting a word. It’s like you’re suddenly the only two people left in the world together. Eventually, though, your stomach starts growling and you smile and sit up.

 

“Sorry, Harry, but I’m afraid when it comes to my social life, my stomach’s the one in charge,” you say.

 

Harry laughs. “That’s ok. I’d rather you didn’t die of starvation in my absence.”

 

“Can I talk to you tonight, or will you be busy?” you ask.

 

“Nah, I’ll call you before we go on,” Harry replies. “It’ll be fine.”

 

“Great,” you say, brightly, sitting up. “I can’t wait.”

 

“Me neither,” Harry replies, softly. _“[Y/N]?”_

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Harry,” you smile. “Talk to you later.”

 

“Later,” Harry agrees and then hangs up his end. You smile and flop back down on the bed, thinking how lucky you are to have a boyfriend who really, really loves you...until your stomach starts grumbling to be fed again and forces you to drag yourself out of the flat and in the direction of the caff.

 

 _Maybe,_ you consider, _just maybe I should pop into somewhere like Anne Summers later, as I’m already out?_

XXX

 

**Harry’s POV:**

After I hang up on _[Y/N],_ I lie back in my bed and think. After our conversation last week, Simon hasn’t mentioned her to me at all, or anything to do with leaving the band either. But I still can’t relax around him. This just feels like the calm before the storm. He might have claimed that he wouldn’t really kick me out of the band if I chose _[Y/N]_ over them, but I didn’t trust him. He seemed to have changed his mind incredibly quickly, like Jekyll turning into Hyde and then back into Jekyll again.

 

I bite back a laugh, remembering that once _[Y/N]_ described herself as having “Jekyll and Hyde” syndrome. She’s always able to make me laugh, even when I’m feeling really low.

 

_I can’t wait to see her again. God, I love her so much. And now she’s even talking about indulging me in my little fetish which isn’t really a fetish; she must really love me._

And that’s why I feel bad about having lied to her.

 

I sigh and roll over, knowing it’s only a matter of time before Niall or Louis comes to jump on my bed as a jokey way of waking me up before rehearsals. Better to just come clean with her when we’re together again, I decide. The second I’m with her again, I’ll tell her everything.

 

That’s a promise.

 


	13. "Angel"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Niall really going to chicken out of this show, or can you and Harry help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for the next chapter, guys, I've had a lot on lately!

 

**Harry’s POV:**

 

“Niall-”

 

“Nu-uh.”

 

“Niall-”

 

“Forget it.”

 

“Oh, come on, Ni-”

 

“Nuh!”

 

Liam groans and turns to me. “Harry?”

 

I shrug. “What can _I_ do? I’m as helpless as the rest of you!”

 

“Oh!” Louis groans in turns and runs his hands through his hair. “What we going to do? Everyone’s waiting for us.”

 

“Yeah, and I’m sorry and all, but I just can’t.” Niall’s clinging to the back of the sofa with more force than a baby koala clinging to its mother and all the pulling in the world won’t shake him off. It’s like he’s suddenly grown Velcro on his hands or something. “Ten thousand fans I can take, but not fifty thousand! It’s the biggest gig we’ve ever played!”

 

“Well, we can’t go on without you, Ni,” Zayn says, hands on hips. “They came to see One Direction, not four English losers.”

 

“Speak for yourself!” Louis interrupts, folding his arms.

 

“Whatever,” Zayn hurries on. “Point is, if they wanted to see four English lads bouncing around on stage, they could just go and see McFly, but they don’t. They want to see four English Lads and an Irishman, so if you don’t get your arse off that sofa in the next ten seconds, I’m going to kick it through that window.”

 

Niall sighs and then uncurls himself, sheepishly. “Fine,” he says, calmly, although his hand’s shaking as he runs it through his own hair. “Ok, yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “I can do this. Sorry, guys.”

 

I grin at him. “It’s ok. Now come on, we’re on in ten.”

 

“I can do this.” Niall mutters as we leave the dressing room. “I can do this.” Then, before we reach the wings, he suddenly freaks out as the chatter from the audience in the mosh pit and beyond, and says “I can’t do this!”

 

“Niall!” we all exclaim as he rushes back into the dressing room again and the door swings shut behind us.

 

“Great,” sighs Louis. “Simon’s going to kill us.”

 

“No,” I point out. “He’ll kill Niall and then make us clean it up.”

 

There’s probably a little more venom in my words than there ought to be but the guys don’t seem to notice.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Louis agrees. “What are we going to do?”

 

“We could just go on without him and say he’s ill,” Liam says.

 

“What; we’ll do that for every show where there’s this many fans?” Louis points out. “What happens when we have to do this all over again next year?”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

We all freeze and then sigh inwardly as Simon comes up behind us. It’s like some scene in a film and I’m very tempted to make a run for it. But instead, I turn and look up with the rest of them into our manager’s frowning face.

 

“Niall’s got a really bad case of stage fright,” I say.

 

“We can’t go on without him,” Zayn adds.

 

Simon sighs and knocks on the door. “Niall?”

 

I don’t hear the rest of what’s said because at that point my phone buzzes and I check it.

 

It’s _[Y/N]._

 

_Good luck. Or should that be break a leg? I’m never sure with singers._

 

I smile and then an idea hits me, because I’m certain that if anyone would know what to do, it would be _[Y/N]._ So I hit the call button.

 

“Help,” I say the second she picks up, before she even has a chance to greet me.

 

“Why, what’s wrong?” she asks, sounding both confused and a little panicked.

 

“Niall’s got a bad case of stage fright,” I explain. “I mean, it is the biggest gig we’ve ever played, but I’ve never seen him like this before. And we can’t go on without him.” I glance over at where Simon’s had very little success with getting Niall out of the dressing room. “Any ideas?”

 

She hesitates and then says, thoughtfully, “Why don’t you let me talk to him?”

 

“Ok,” I say, slowly, “but we’ve got to be on in ten.”

 

I go to the door. Simon’s now saying “Niall, it’s really no different to playing back home.”

 

“Yes, it is. There’s more people,” Niall says from the other side of the door.

 

I knock on the door. “Niall,” I say, _“[Y/N]’s_ on the phone; she wants a word.”

 

There’s a brief pause and then the door opens. Niall’s arm gropes around until I shove the phone into his hand and then it disappears inside, the door closing again. Simon sighs and turns to me. “We don’t have time for this, Harry,” he says.

 

“Just give _[Y/N]_ a sec,” I begin, and then suddenly the door opens so suddenly that I almost fall through it. Straightening myself, I look up in surprise, and I’m not the only one as Niall thrusts my phone back into my hand and marches confidently towards the stage. “Let’s do this,” he says, bravely.

 

Of course we all gawp at him like he’s just transformed into a dragon or something, and then Simon ushers us after him.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ what did you say?” I ask in amazement.

 

“That doesn’t matter now,” she says. “Just get on the stage before he loses his nerve.”

 

“You’re amazing, _[Y/N],”_ I say, smiling.

 

“I’ll say,” Zayn agrees, loud enough for her to hear. “Thanks, _[Y/N]!”_

 

“Yeah, thanks _[Y/N]!”_ the others call as they hurry after Niall.

 

 _[Y/N]_ laughs her end of the phone. “That’s ok, I’m happy to help. I mean, it beats doing my assignment.”

 

I laugh myself. “I love you, _[Y/N]._ I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

 

“Ok,” she says, and then, “Oh, and Harry?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you too.”

 

I smile, say goodbye and hang up before following the others out onto the stage. The whole way through, though, I can feel Simon watching me and I know, I just know, that he isn’t happy about _[Y/N]_ calling, or the fact that I’m still with her, or even the fact that _she_ was the one to sort Niall out rather than one of us, or better yet, him.

 

Which can only mean that I was right before. That he was lying when he said that he was fine with me choosing both her and the band.

 

And that whatever reason he’s got for still disliking her has to be a really petty one, I mean it just has to. How could it not be? Alright, so when I first met _[Y/N]_ she came across as being pretty snappish and sometimes she can say things without thinking, but who doesn’t do that, and as far as I know, since she’s only met Simon once, she was polite to him.

 

 _What_ is _his problem?_

 

I don’t get a chance to question it right away, though, because suddenly the lights hit us and we’re singing our hearts out for the whole of L.A to hear. And when I steal a glance at Niall halfway through “The Best Song Ever,” I can see that he’s the way he always is on stage, cheerful, bouncy, hyped up like someone’s given him a shot of coffee or something, not about to retreat back to the sofa like a frightened animal.

 

I decide that I’m definitely going to reward _[Y/N]_ for that!

 

“Hello, L.A!” Louis crows. “Did you enjoy that one?”

 

Of course he’s met with raucous applause and cheers, and general screams that I can’t make out, from the fans. I suddenly get worried that they might start throwing things onstage; it has been known to happen before. I mean, they wouldn’t throw bottles or anything dangerous, but I do know that with some bands girls actually go completely crazy and throw their underwear at the singers. I’m not entirely sure what _[Y/N]_ would make of that.

 

Thankfully by the end of the night, the only things that have been thrown around are a few glowsticks and, surprisingly, a towel from somewhere, which Niall cracks a joke about belonging to “a very considerate fan who’s thrown it up here because they know we’ll be all hot and sweaty by the end of the night, thanks!”

 

“Well, guys,” says Liam, sorrowfully, “this is going to be the last song we sing for you tonight, but we hope you all had a great night.”

 

There are a few cheers and he turns to me, expectantly. I clear my throat. “Yeah, for you guys who’ve been reading the papers recently, this is not only one of my favourite songs but also the one me and my _[Y/N]_ call our song, so we hope you love it as much as we do.”

 

Zayn makes a “love-you” gesture with his fist, the one that involves tapping your chest and then holding your arm out, before saying “Let’s go, guys.”

 

We sing and the whole time my mind is thinking _“[Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N]...”_ and I can’t wait to just hold her again the second we’re together.

 

“Thanks, you’ve been great!” Louis says at the end of the song. “We’ve been One Direction, you’ve been...whoever you are, and, um, keep listening to our music! Goodnight!”

 

“Right, come on, everyone,” Simon says, officially, as he guides us backstage with a sweep of his hand. We’re all feeling a bit hyped up on adrenaline and stuff, too much to talk properly, so it’s only when we’re finally all back in the living room area of our hotel suite that we finally start.

 

“Seriously, I could _kiss_ your _[Y/N]_ right now,” Louis says to me. “I really could.”

 

“Hands off,” I say. “Get your own girl.”

 

Zayn laughs. “What did she even say to motivate you, Ni?”

 

Niall grins. “She said, and I quote, “Niall, you’re Irish, so you’re descended from a nation of tough warriors who don’t give up fighting until everyone’s dead. If anyone can face an audience of fifty thousand people and survive, _you_ can.” He gives a casual shrug. “It worked.”

 

“That’s my _[Y/N],”_ I say, my heart giving a little kick.

 

“Well, we all owe her a massive hug when we see her,” Liam says.

 

“Me first!” Niall protests with a grin and we all laugh.

 

“She’s an angel,” Zayn adds, sincerely.

 

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling that he was absolutely right. “She is. An angel.”

 


	14. "Remedy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Harry finally come clean to one another...is there anything that can make you both feel better?

 

The weeks without Harry anywhere near you seem to drag. You’ve become so used to him being only a train ride away from you and now, well, what can you say? It’s not that you want him to quit being a popstar, stop making millions of fans, your friends included, happy and just stay home for the rest of his life, it’s just that, well, you’ve got so used to having him around that you really miss him when he’s so far away from you.

 

But eventually, after several weeks of carrying on with your assignments as best as you can and phoning and Skyping Harry at every available opportunity, eventually the day comes, as promised, when they play that one Cardiff gig when you’ll finally get to see him again, and you’re feeling a sense of déjà vu as you flash your VIP pass at Security outside CIA and they wave you in. You’ve even got a Tupperware box with you again, only this time it’s not filled with muffins. Instead you decided to try your hand at making banana-chocolate cookies the day before and they turned out pretty well.

 

You help yourself to one absently as you make your way to the dressing room and whilst you’re munching, you almost bump into someone. Startled, you glance up to see Simon standing with his back to you.

 

“Sorry,” you smile. “I didn’t see you there.”

 

“Should learn to keep your eyes open,” Simon replies, his manner teasing. “Especially backstage in a place like this, so many things you could trip over.”

 

You feel he’s being nice but something about his words makes you feel awkward. They do sound like something from a film, something the murderer might say before the viewer knows they’re the murderer, but makes you suspicious anyway.

 

“Cookie?” you ask, holding out the box to him, a peace offering. “They’re banana and chocolate.”

 

“Oh, no, thank you,” Simon declines, politely, “I just ate. But I’m sure the boys will appreciate them.”

 

You smile and it might just be your imagination, but when Simon returns it, it seems...you don’t know, sickly, like a snake’s. You make your way into the dressing room and place the box on the table, only when you look up, Simon’s watching you, carefully, no, not watching, observing. It’s making you feel a bit uncomfortable.

 

“The boys still rehearsing?” you ask, awkwardly.

 

“They should be finished quite soon,” Simon replies, vaguely.

 

You’re itching to text Harry and tell him you’re here, but for some reason you don’t feel comfortable doing so in front of Simon. You lean against a table, wondering whether or not to make small talk but before you can do so, someone calls Simon and her turns and leaves without another word. You breathe out and fumble for your phone, your eyes on the open door the whole time. Something about the way Simon was looking at you made you feel uncomfortable and suddenly all you want is Harry next to you.

 

Half an hour later, when you’re sitting on the sofa, wondering if anyone would mind if you started mucking around on the Xbox, even though you’ve no idea how to work the bloody thing, the sound of running feet hits your ears and you spring to your feet in surprise as not only your boyfriend but all four other members of One Direction come running at you like a heard of wild animals. You squeal as you’re swept off your feet by about eight arms, which is both exciting and scary, and you suddenly realise just how many fangirls, and boys, would be jealous of you if they knew about this.

 

“Hi, guys,” you manage to say.

 

“Excuse me!” Harry’s voice comes through sounding rather indignant. “That’s my girlfriend; you guy find your own!”

 

“You get her all the time, that’s not fair,” Liam teases as he lets go of you and then yelps “Ow!” as Harry swats him around the back of the head. You laugh as Zayn and Louis let go of you too, but Niall still clings on tightly.

 

“Ok, Niall, you’re wrinkling me now,” you smile, finally wriggling out of his grip.

 

He grins at you. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d have let down thousands of fans in L.A, _[Y/N]._ Thank you.”

 

“You’re very welcome,” you say as Harry finally pulls you into his arms.

 

“Missed you,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head.

 

“Missed you too,” you whisper back.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry says, taking your hand and retrieving his hoodie from the back of the sofa.

 

“Remember what Simon said?” Zayn begins.

 

“I know, I know, be back for six,” Harry sighs, pulling on his hoodie. You find yourself helping him and he smiles, gratefully, at you before taking your hand.

 

“Oh, by the way, I brought cookies,” you say, pointing to the Tupperware box on the table. “Banana and chocolate.”

 

“Save some for me,” Harry tells the others as Niall’s face lights up in delight.

 

“You’re the best, _[Y/N]!”_ Zayn calls as you leave together.

 

You laugh, fondly, and then notice Harry looks slightly agitated. “Harry, what’s wrong?” you ask, pressing closer to him.

 

He sighs and then smiles at you. “Nothing, just Simon making us stay after rehearsals, that’s why I didn’t come to you the second I got your text.” He slips his arm around your waist, tucking you into his side and begins to trail kisses down your neck affectionately. “I hate it when he does that.”

 

“Like staying late after class?” you smile.

 

“Exactly.” Suddenly he’s his old puppyish self again, grinning at you as he yanks up his hood and tugs on your hand again. “Come on, race you to the Bay!”

 

You laugh as you both run through the crowded street as best as you can manage. A few people turn and stare in your direction but you ignore them, weaving in and out of shoppers and students and giggling together like the young loving couple you are. Of course you don’t run all the way to the Bay (you doubt even Usain Bolt would be able to do that without a break halfway) but you do run as far as Bute Terrace and walk the rest of the way, hand in hand. All the way there, though, as you’re talking and laughing together, you can feel the threatening note, folded in your pocket, crinkling against your leg with every step, along with a twinge of guilt that you’ve not yet said anything about it. You decide it’s best to wait for the right moment, not now when you’re both feeling so high and giddy together.

 

You grab a sandwich in Terra Nova together. It always feels special when you go to that place, but then it was where you had your first date together. Of course, Harry has to pull off his hood as you go indoors, so it’s only natural when you’re both halfway through your date that suddenly a young girl of about ten comes up with her mother and shyly holds out a copy of their latest album and a pen. The mother, of course, is all polite apologies for having interrupted the two of you at lunch, but Harry’s happy to sign her CD and chat to her, promising to try and look out for her during the concert “amid all the other fans.” The mother thanks you both and then leads her very excitable daughter away.

 

You feel a little tug on your heartstrings as you smile at him. “You’re very sweet, do you know that?”

 

“I try,” Harry replies, and you both laugh. Strangely, though, that only serves to make you feel even more guilty about hiding what you’re hiding from him. It’s only after you’ve both finished your lunch and you’re taking a quiet walk along the waterfront together that Harry notices your discomfort.

 

He stops and you’re two steps ahead of him before his hand in yours brings you up short. _“[Y/N],_ what’s up? Something’s bothering you.”

 

You sigh and sit down on the nearest bench, letting go of his hand. “Harry, there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

Harry looks worried. “Oh, God, you’re not-?”

 

“No!” you yelp, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

 

Harry breathes out and sinks down beside you. “Thank God. I mean, not that that wouldn’t be great in future, but for right now, thank God.”

 

You smile. “I doubt sperm can get down a phone line, Harry.”

 

“Right, of course, I was forgetting.” Harry chuckles and runs a hand through his unruly curls. “Alright, not pregnant, so what else could it be?”

 

You feel nervously in your pocket for the folded note and take a deep breath. “I...I got this sent to me through the post...on the same day your postcard from Paris came through...”

 

You hand it to him and watch his frown as he unfolds it turn into an expression of shock and then anger as he reads it. Looking closely, you realise he’s actually shaking with faint rage.

 

“Oh, I don’t believe this,” he mutters, crumpling up the note in one hand and turning to you. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted, but I didn’t seriously think he’d do something like this.”

 

You blink at him. “Who?”

 

“Simon.” With a sigh, Harry gets abruptly to his feet. “I can’t believe this. What is his problem?”

 

“Why would Simon send me that?” you stammer, although even as you’re saying it, you have a sneaking feeling you already know the answer.

 

“Because he doesn’t like you,” Harry sighs, looking apologetic. “I don’t know why when you’ve only ever been polite to him, but he doesn’t want us to be together.” He gives another sigh and looks at his feet. “He wanted me to choose between you and the band.”

 

Your eyes widen in shock. “What did you say?”

 

“I told him I wasn’t going to do that,” Harry replies, “and he made out that it was all some kind of test or something, to see how serious I am about both of you. But I knew he couldn’t be trusted!”

 

He looks to be on the verge of losing his temper. You’ve never seen him like this before, it’s usually _you_ that does the shouting in this relationship. You’re not entirely sure what to do.

 

“Harry, it’s ok,” you begin, reaching out to touch his hand.

 

“No, don’t you dare tell me this is ok!” Harry shouts, pulling his arm away from you, rather vigorously. “Nothing about this is fucking ok!”

 

You quickly get up because this is suddenly getting a bit too scary for you. Harry grabs your hand, however, and sighs. “No, wait!” He takes a deep breath and sinks back into his normal, calm self again. “I’m sorry, _[Y/N]._ I didn’t mean to shout at you. You’re not the one I’m angry at.”

 

You look into his eyes and just know that he’s telling the truth. I mean, he’s not usually one for losing it like that, Harry, and you know that he’d never do anything to hurt you. Even so, you’re a bit shaken. “I think Puppy just turned into a Rottweiler,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

 

Harry pulls you into a tight hug, his hands rubbing your back soothingly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, softly, kissing your hair. “I really didn’t mean to yell.”

 

You cling tightly to him. “It’s ok,” you whisper, feeling safe and protected again in his arms.

 

Harry sighs, softly. “I just don’t get why he’s doing this to us. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me; I don’t understand why he wants to ruin that.”

 

“Did he say anything to you?” you ask.

 

He shrugs. “Just that going out with you isn’t good for our public image, which we both know is just an excuse to cover up his real reason, whatever that is.”

 

You stand in silence a while, holding each other. Then, slowly, you look up at him. “I think I know how I can cheer you up a bit,” you say.

 

“Shoot Simon?” Harry asks, only half-joking.

 

You smile. “No, I’d lose my license that way. Come with me.”

 

You tug his hand. “Where are we off?” Harry asks, allowing you to pull him along.

 

“My place,” you say, simply.

 

He laughs. “Alright, now I’m having a strong sense of déjà vu!”

 

You grin. “I’ve got something to show you.”

 

“Lead on, then,” Harry grins back and you feel a twinge of relief that he seems happier already. You walk together back to the flat which, thankfully, is empty and once you’re in the bedroom, you pull the black paper bag out from underneath your bed, suddenly a little shy, even though it’s because of Harry you bought the stuff.

 

Inside Harry finds a black, satin tie, a roll of black bondage tape and a black eyemask. You weren’t entirely sure what kind of things he’d be into, how far he’d want to take this, so you’d just bought the basics. Plus something that might get him in the mood.

 

You blush. “I wasn’t sure what to get, so I just asked the woman what she’d recommend for beginners.”

 

Harry smiles and cups your face, gently. _“[Y/N],_ you’re amazing,” he says, softly, before finally kissing you properly.

 

You smile in relief against his lips. “Just wait right there,” you say. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.”

 

You slip into the bathroom to undress. When you come out, Harry’s sitting on the bed, his shoes and socks kicked off in a corner of the room, either they landed neatly or he thought to tidy them afterwards, examining the feel of the satin tie. He glances up as you approach and then stares at you. “Oh, my God, you look amazing,” he says.

 

You smile, running your hands down the sheer black camisole, translucent and trimmed with lace, over matching black pants. “You like what you see, Puppy?” you ask, teasingly. Harry nods as you crawl onto the bed beside him. You take a deep breath and take the tie from his hands. “So, how do you want me to do this? Is there a certain way or what?”

 

Harry smiles and wriggles out of his hoodie, T-shirt and jeans, kicking them away across the floor before turning to you. “Just tie my hands behind my back, and make sure you can undo the knot afterwards, otherwise this could be really embarrassing.”

 

You giggle and motion for him to turn around. Harry does so, crossing his wrists behind his back, and you bind them with the tie. “Is that too tight?” you check.

 

Harry tests it. “No, that’s fine,” he smiles. “So, what are you planning to do to me?”

 

“Um...” You hold up the blindfold and smile seductively. Harry grins and allows you to put it on him. “Relax,” you whisper, pushing him down onto the mattress and tugging off his boxers. He’s aroused by this already, you can’t help but notice. “Trust me.”

 

“I do trust you, _[Y/N],”_ Harry says and then gives a sudden gasp as you take him in your mouth. “Oh...jeez, _[Y/N]_...” You experiment a little, alternating between soft little leasing touches and firmer strokes until Harry’s shuddering beneath you. He moans your name softly and then you finally send him spilling over the edge. You finish up with a few small kisses and Harry murmurs something you don’t catch.

 

“Sorry?” you ask, looking up.

 

“I said I love you, _[Y/N],_ you’re amazing,” Harry gasps.

 

You crawl over and kiss him before removing the blindfold. Bondage was never something you had considered to be appealing before but with Harry, maybe _because_ it was with Harry, you’d been getting rather aroused yourself. “I love you too, Puppy,” you whisper, before helping him sit up. You untie him and then sit back on your heels. “You want to get cleaned up?”

 

“Give me two seconds,” Harry says, kissing you gently, cupping your face with one hand to do so, before clambering off the bed and going into the bathroom. You flop down on your back, tingling inwardly about all this. Perhaps you were better at this bondage thing than you’d imagined.

 

Harry comes back in, beaming as he leans down to kiss you. “You’re wonderful, _[Y/N],_ thank you,” he murmurs against you lips. Before you can reply, he adds, “Although I do feel bad getting something from you without giving you something in return.”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you begin but he cuts you off deftly by placing a finger on your lips, a mischievous look in his eyes.

 

“No, let me,” he says, crawling onto the bed beside you and beginning to trail kisses down your body. You start tingling all over again as he works his way down and then begins to ease your pants down. The next thing you know he’s kissing you in that way he knows you love and it’s you who’s now a writhing mess on the mattress.

 

“Oh, God, Harry...” you gasp, curling your fingers into the sheets to keep yourself from shooting right onto the floor as you finally orgasm and lie there basking in the aftermath. You’re sure you must be glowing right now, if such a thing’s possible right after sex.

 

Harry kisses his way back up your body and when his lips are finally level with yours again, he rolls you both onto your sides and pulls you into a warm hug. You cuddle close, curling into a ball as your legs tremble all over. Your heart is racing and you can feel his racing too as you press closer against him.

 

“So, that worked, then?” you manage to ask. “You’re feeling better?”

 

“Oh, yes, sex is always the best remedy for anything,” Harry replies, running a hand through your hair, and then adding, softly, “especially when it’s with _you.”_

 

You smile and nuzzle into his chest. “I love you, Harry,” you murmur.

 

“I love you too, _[Y/N],”_ Harry replies, kissing the top of your head. “And that’s why Simon’s not going to tear us apart. I don’t care what he does. I’m not giving you up for anything.”

 

You close your eyes, knowing that if Simon really wanted to, he could destroy Harry completely. But instead of pointing this out, you nod and hum a small agreement as you settle into his warm embrace and wait for the timer on your phone to alert to you when you both need to get back to the CIA. Worrying can wait. Right now you’re back with Harry and that’s all that matters.

 


	15. "Better Than Revenge"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could a love bite be one way to get up Simon's nose?

“We can’t let him get away with this,” is the first thing Harry says when you’re both dressed.

 

“Huh?” Your head shoots up in surprise as you pull on your shoes. Truth be told, you’re still a little in your post orgasmic bliss stage so anything that happened before the sex is a bit fuzzy now.

 

“Simon,” Harry elaborates, reaching for your hand. “He’s gone too far this time. I mean, threatening me is one thing, but threatening you?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know...do we tell someone? Would they even believe us?”

 

“We’ve still got the note,” you point out.

 

“Yeah, but we’ve only got my word for it that it’s Simon who wrote it,” Harry replies with a sigh.

 

“What about the envelope?” you ask. “The French postmark.”

 

Harry gives you a pitying look. “It could still have been faked,” he says, “if someone was very clever.”

 

You sigh and look at your feet. “You’ve been watching too much CSI,” you say.

 

“NCIS,” he corrects you, lifting your chin and kissing you.

 

You feel a wave of disappointment bubble up in you inwardly. “Surely if we told someone...they’d have to believe the two of us.”

 

“Or they’d think we’d made the whole thing up between us to make Simon look bad,” Harry replies, running a hand through his hair. “The one thing I know for certain about that man is that he has one of the best lawyers in the country. He could do us for slander before we even had a chance to blink.”

 

You smile. You can’t help it, even though the situation’s a pretty serious one, it’s just that Harry’s now made his hair extra-fluffy with all that mussing. “Come here,” you say, fondly, leaning up and patting it back into place for him. He gives you a sheepish smile. “Harry, we need to fight this,” you say. “Play him at his own game.”

 

“What do you have in mind?” Harry asks.

 

“I don’t actually know,” you admit, “but you’re right, we can’t let him do this to us.” A shiver goes down your spine as you think of something. “He wouldn’t actually...you know...do anything to physically hurt us...would he?”

 

Harry wraps you in a hug and kisses the top of your head. “No,” he says, firmly, “he’d be more likely to do stuff like this, try and put the frighteners on us.” You say nothing and he hugs you a little tighter. “Are you scared?”

 

“A bit,” you confess.

 

“Don’t be.” His voice is a soft murmur now as he runs his hands through your hair, soothingly. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.”

 

Your heart melts a little at that as you smile. “Harry...”

 

“I mean it,” he insists, his hands moving lower to stroke your back.

 

You take a deep breath, an idea slowly forming in your mind. “You know, we need to show him that he can’t tear us apart so easily,” you say, looking up at him. “That he can’t hurt us, no matter how hard he tries.”

 

Harry nods. “Well, I think the fact that we’re still together will tell him that much.”

 

You smile. “I think we need to take it up a notch.”

 

He frowns. “How exactly?”

 

“Come here.” Suddenly you’re nervous, although you know you don’t really need to be. It’s Harry, after all, he loves you, you can never make a fool of yourself in front of him. Still, you want this to work, you want Simon to be able to see that his note hasn’t scared you away from Harry, in fact it’s actually just scared you right back into his arms again, and as you pull him down beside you, you remind yourself that even Harry gets nervous when it comes to stuff like this. “Want to try something.”

 

Now it’s Harry who looks nervous and you bite back a laugh because looks so adorable like that. Mind you, he always looks adorable no matter what. “You trust me, don’t you?” you ask.

 

He smiles. _“[Y/N],_ I just let you tie me up and have your “wicked way” with me.” You both laugh, softly, as he takes both your hands in his, interlocking your fingers together. “I think it’s safe to say I do.”

 

“Good,” you say, bringing your hands up to run through his hair, and then, taking a deep breath, you lean forwards to kiss him. Harry’s arms find your waist, pulling you closer, and you move, breaking from his lips to trail kisses down the side of his neck. The effect is remarkable, you feel him immediately thrust his body against yours, a soft gasp of “Whoa...” escaping him as you finally make your move and find a spot you can tenderly nibble and suck against.

 

 _“[Y/N]...”_ Harry sighs your name as he closes his eyes and arches into your touch.

 

You’ve had love bites before, from Harry, before him you’d never really fancied the idea of them, but since meeting him they’d kind of grown on you, but you’d never actually given one before. You could only hope that it would mark his skin enough so that Simon would notice. You keep it up for a moment, sucking and nipping, feeling somewhat smug when you feel one of Harry’s hands leave your waist to come up and cup the back of your head, holding you closer to him. Somehow you had a feeling he’d enjoy this if you tried it in reverse, with his receiving the bite instead of you. The sounds he makes give you a tingling feeling inside and suddenly you realise that you’re actually quite turned on by being the one in control here.

 

“Jeez, _[Y/N],_ that feels so good,” Harry groans, his fingers massaging your scalp gently.

 

You finally break away and glance up at him. “You’re mine, right?” you say, softly.

 

Harry smiles at you. “I’m yours forever, _[Y/N].”_

 

You return his smile and press a soft kiss to the mark you left on his skin before kissing your way back up to his lips. “Tell him that, then,” you murmur, between kisses, “make sure he knows it.”

 

Harry grins. “Oh you’re good,” he says, and then you left out a soft squeak as he dives on top of you and kisses you. “You’re very good,” he murmurs against your lips.

 

“I know,” you smile, smugly, thrusting your body upwards to meet his. “Think we have time for Round Two?”

 

“Well, I’m not due back ‘til six, so...”

 

You giggle as Harry flips you over so that you’re on top of him, pinning him down, and holds out his hands submissively. “I am yours to command, Cavegirl,” he says.

 

You grin. “Perhaps if you’re a good Puppy, I’ll tie you up again.”

 

 

**Harry’s POV:**

I can’t get over just how amazing _[Y/N]_ is, even knowing that the man who calls himself my manager is trying to split us up. But being with her just makes me feel better about the whole thing altogether, especially after Round Two. I just can’t believe that she’s not freaked out by my...I don’t really want to call it a fetish, thing for being dominated, and especially by her. To say she’s never done it before, she’s pretty amazing at it.

 

Eventually, though, much as I’d love to just stay in _[Y/N]’s_ arms for the rest of my life, it’s time to get back to the Arena and back on that stage to meet the multitude of screaming fans waiting out there for One Direction. I tell _[Y/N]_ I’ll meet her in the car when the whole thing’s over, even though a small part of me’s worried about leaving her somewhere Simon might suddenly pop up. She told me about him watching her earlier in a rather creepy manner and that just served to make me hate him all the more. Because suddenly I do, I just hate him for what he’s trying to do to us.

 

Luckily the guys in the wardrobe and make up department are easily bought into not mentioning the bruise to Simon just yet. I’d rather he saw it for himself. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he does.

 

It actually comes sooner than anticipated.

 

“Good show tonight, lads,” Simon says when it’s all over.

 

Zayn swallows hard and rubs his throat. “Jeez, feel like I’m losing my voice.”

 

“Maybe you’ve got that bug that’s going around,” Liam says.

 

“Christ, I hope not.”

 

“Just take some lozenges and don’t talk too much between shows, you’ll be fine,” Simon says, not unkindly. I watch him carefully, startled by just how changeable he suddenly is. One minute he’s like something from a Mafia film, the Godfather figure, trying to make me leave the girl I love, and then the next he’s Nice Simon, good old Simon, the one people don’t always see when they watch X Factor.

 

It’s actually pretty scary.

 

“Yeah, Harry can lend you his scarf,” Niall says, tugging at the thing around my neck.

 

“Hey!” I say as he yanks a little too hard and catches the bruise. I quickly yank it back out of his grip and adjust the knot. “Easy on the neck!”

 

“Sorry,” Niall grins.

 

Louis watches, though, as I adjust my collar. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” I insist.

 

“Aw, is _[Y/N]_ abusing you?” Liam teases, also tugging at my scarf.

 

“No,” I say, giving him a small shove. “Get off.”

 

The scarf shifts and Zayn exclaims “Whoa!”

 

I look up to find they’re all staring at my neck. The guys looking both surprised and awed, Simon impassive but I can see that his eyes are burning with a mixture of fury and unimpressed abhorrence. I suddenly wish that there’s a way to show _[Y/N]_ how he looks, show her that her idea to get up his nose worked.

 

“Dude, now _that’s_ a love bite!” Niall exclaims, pulling off my scarf before I can protest. “You’re dating a vampire!”

 

“Oh, so that’s why she doesn’t go out much,” Louis adds with a grin.

 

“Shut up,” I say, snatching my scarf back, “and I’ll tell her you said that, you two.”

 

“Alright, you lot, that’s enough,” Simon says. “Get to bed, it’s been a long day. Oh, Harry, a word,” he adds, not bothering to fix a “Please,” onto the end of it, which can only mean one thing. I’m in trouble.

 

And for once, I couldn’t care less.

 

I get to my feet as Zayn says “Well, I like it. It suits him,” and I end up chucking a cushion at him before they leave. I just grin at Simon, not smugly, not wickedly, just innocently, like we’ve just shared a joke together, as I tie my scarf back around my neck.

 

“Jokers,” I say, lamely, indicating the way they’ve gone.

 

“Harry, I thought you knew better than to go around sporting something like that in public,” Simon says, sternly, his eyes like steel.

 

I shrug and fold my arms. “I don’t see what the problem is,” I say.

 

“Oh, don’t you?” Simon asks, drily. If I’d thought he was in a mood for humour before, he certainly isn’t now. “You’d best start wearing scarves and upturned collars from now until that thing fades.”

 

“And what if I don’t?” I challenge.

 

“Then you’ll be putting your entire image at risk, sporting that mark like a common whore,” Simon states in a clipped tone. “And you wouldn’t want to let down the rest of the band like that, would you?”

 

I feel something in me snapping. Any respect I ever had for this man is gone. I turn and march to the door but before I head out, I turn to him. “You know what, Simon?” I say. “You are so full of shit. I don’t know what you were hoping to gain by sending _[Y/N]_ that note but-”

 

“Note?” Simon repeats, with a frown.

 

I can tell he’s putting it on, though. “Yeah, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” I say. “You sent it to her the same time we were in Paris, telling her to leave me or else you’d, well, I don’t know what, but I know a threat when I see one.”

 

“Oh, is that what she’s telling you?” Simon asks, folding his arms and looking amused. “That I’m threatening her?”

 

I scowl at him. “We have proof.”

 

“What? A threatening note that could have been sent by a jealous fan?” Simon snorts. “You call that proof?”

 

“So, you admit it, then?”

 

“I told you she was no good for you, Harry.”

 

I glare at him, and even though right now I really, really, really want to hit him, I don’t.

 

“You’re wrong,” I tell him, and then I sweep out of the room. If it’s a war he wants, I decide, then it’s a war he’ll get. I’m prepared to fight with all I’ve got for _[Y/N]._

 

I march out of the Arena to where the white Jag is waiting for me, with my _[Y/N]_ waiting for me inside. She smiles as I climb in and I kiss her fiercely, relieved she’s alright, before motioning Phil to drive on.

 

“What about the guys?” _[Y/N]_ asks in surprise.

 

“They can take the tour bus,” I shrug.

 

“Won’t you get into trouble for that?”

 

“Only with them.”

 

Anyway, if it annoys Simon, it’s a plus.

 

She shakes her head, fondly, as she snuggles up close to me. “When did you get to be such a bad boy, Puppy?”

 

I just grin as I cuddle her close to me, before I go into detail about how annoyed Simon was by her marking my neck. Her eyes light up as she pulls me to her for another kiss and suddenly I don’t care what happens next, I don’t care what Simon’s got lined up for us, all I can say is bring it on.

 

What is it they always say? Don’t get mad, get even, and that’s better than revenge.

 

This certainly is.

 


	16. "Piece of Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Harry discuss the future...

You open your eyes, feeling very warm and relaxed. The room’s almost in darkness but a dim glow from one of the lamps outside is filtering in through a crack in the curtains, so you can make out most of the layout. Odd mismatching lumps are furniture and discarded clothing and you stifle a giggle at the thought that you might turn on the lights to find that your socks are hanging from the light fixture or something.

 

How come you feel so warm and comfortable?

 

With a sleepy murmur, Harry presses closer behind you and you smile. That’s why. He’s holding you right up against him, his front pressing into your back and his arm around your waist. Turning, you can make out his outline, just, in the dim light. The fact he doesn’t respond to your movement tells you that he’s fast asleep, and you resist the urge to say “Aw,” because he does look incredibly cute when he’s asleep. Slowly, and with a great deal of reluctance, you slide quietly out from under his arm and clamber out of bed, running a hand through your hair and feeling the soft carpet beneath your bare toes. You feel about on the floor for a T-shirt to pull on over your underwear, and when you find one, you hold it up to your face and inhale. It’s Harry’s, and you shake your head, wondering where yours is.

 

_In this place, it could be anywhere._

_Put his on! He won’t mind!_

_But I hate the idea of doing that! You know I do! Girls always do that even when they’ve got their own clothes on the floor!_

_So? Is your bladder really going to last long enough for you to find yours?_

You sigh. The voice in your head has a point, so you sit carefully on the edge of the bed and wriggle into the shirt. As expected, it’s bigger on you than on Harry, and yet, something about wearing it makes you feel closer to him, like he’s hugging you still. Maybe it’s because it smells like him.

 

Then you feel him press a kiss to the back of your head.

 

“Not abandoning me, are you?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep as he nuzzles your hair from behind.

 

You smile. “No, I need to use your bathroom.”

 

“Ok,” Harry murmurs, kissing the crook between your neck and shoulder. You feel a shudder of pleasure go through you and you turn to face him.

 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, finding his mouth easily in the darkness. You quickly kiss him and then pad softly out of the room. As you pull the door closed behind you, the light suddenly snaps on and you jump, spinning about to see a very sleepy Niall staggering into view, rubbing his eyes and blinking in the brightness. You let out a relieved giggle. He reminds you of a hamster you once saw on a pet programme.

 

“Niall, stop doing that to me,” you tease.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, looking a little lost, bless him. “Did you want the bathroom?”

 

“No, it’s ok, you can go first,” you say, politely.

 

“Nah, you can,” Niall insists. “You’re a lady.”

 

You smile, knowing that you’ll probably be here all morning if you protest. “Well, thanks, Niall,” you say and then you quickly make your way into the room before your bladder can let go completely before you’re ready for it. You check yourself out in the mirror when you’re done. You don’t look too bad, just a little paler than usual, but that’s nothing new, and your hair’s still a mess, but you know Harry won’t tease. You quickly wash your hands and then pad back into the main room of the suite, where Niall’s sprawled on the sofa. A door opens and Zayn totters in, also looking wrecked but somewhat happy.

 

“Hey, _[Y/N],”_ he grins. “Good night?”

 

“Great night,” you reply with a smile.

 

“Be gentle with him,” Zayn adds as you make your way back into Harry’s room.

 

You make a dismissive gesture at him that makes him laugh and then close the door behind you.

 

“Missed you,” Harry murmurs as you climb back into bed beside him.

 

“Sorry,” you smile, cuddling up to him as he wraps his arms back around you.

 

Harry leans forwards and kisses you, and then murmurs in surprise “Wait...is that my shirt?”

 

You blush. “Sorry, it was nearer than mine.”

 

He leans over you and snaps on the lamp by the bed. Before you can say anything, he pulls you closer and rolls over so that you’re on top of him before looking you up and down and giving you the once-over. “Looks good on you,” he says, approvingly, and your blush deepens. You lower your eyes but he lifts your chin so that you’re looking at him again. “I’m serious,” he says, “you look cute in my clothes. But then you always look cute.”

 

 _“Harry,”_ you smile.

 

“I’m serious,” Harry insists, rolling you underneath him and kissing you.

 

“Stop making me blush,” you laugh. “I hate the way I look when I blush.”

 

“Why?” Harry gives you a sad smile. “You’re gorgeous.” Then, as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, he starts to sing softly to you, the lyrics to What Makes You Beautiful.

 

You smile and arch into him. “Our song,” you murmur, and then sigh. “Harry, I’m going to have to go soon.”

 

“I know.” Harry sighs too, giving you one of his lost puppy looks. “I really wish you didn’t have to.”

 

“Me too, Puppy,” you say, softly, ruffling his hair.

 

He smiles at you. “You know, after you’ve graduated, after you’re a famous writer and everything, you should move in with me, and we can always wake up together like this.”

 

Your heart gives a little kick as your eyes widen upon seeing that he isn’t teasing you about this, he’s serious. “You think about things like that?” you stammer. “The future?”

 

Harry gives you an adorable little look as he admits “Yeah. I do.”

 

“Well...what happens?” you manage to ask. “In your mind, I mean.”

 

“You’re an international bestselling author and I’m still a singer, but we’re together more, we live in the same place, although that doesn’t necessarily have to be Worcester, if you don’t want to leave Wales, that’s not a problem, I can move here,” Harry says, adding with a soft smile, “and sometimes I picture us...getting married.”

 

You blink at him. “Any children?”

 

“A couple, but I’ve no idea what we’ll call them yet,” Harry replies, still smiling at you.

 

You feel a lump in your throat but you swallow it. “You must really love me,” you whisper.

 

He frowns. “The amount of times I’ve said it before didn’t tell you that?”

 

“No,” you laugh. “I mean, yes they did and that’s not what I meant. I read this article the other day about how to tell if your boyfriend really loves you, and it says that if they start talking about the future, it’s one of the signs.”

 

Harry looks relieved. “What else did it say?”

 

“Well,” you begin and then as he gently brushes your hair out of your eyes, his hand lingering on your cheek, you say “when you do that, when you touch me, or hold my hand, or just hug me for no reason, that’s another sign, and when you want your friends and family to meet me, well, I’ve already met the guys so we’re halfway there,” Harry laughs, “and sometimes I catch you looking at me, like you can’t believe how lucky you are to have me.”

 

“I can’t,” Harry insists. “I mean, after all we’ve been through...”

 

You smile. “And you said “I love you” first. And not just to get me into bed with you either.”

 

You both laugh. “For the record,” Harry says, “I don’t hug you for _no reason._ I hug you because I _want_ to.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” you say, “but most boys only ever hug girls when they’re upset or something; that’s what I meant. You hug me even when I’m happy.”

 

Harry smiles. “Well, I love you, _[Y/N]._ I mean I can’t actually imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

 

You feel warm inside as you smile back at him. “Right back at you.” He leans down to kiss you and you enjoy it while it lasts before reluctantly pulling away from him with a sigh. “I’m really going to have to get dressed now,” you tell him.

 

“Must you?” Harry teases. “I quite like it when you’re not wearing anything.”

 

“Harry!” you laugh.

 

“Alright,” he smiles, rolling off you. “I’ll see you back.”

 

You shake your head as you sit up. “You know,” you say, “if someone had told me years ago that hating One Direction would have led to me dating one them, I’d have just become a fan.”

 

Harry laughs and pulls you out of bed. “Too late, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

 

“Mm, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. Harry picks you up, lifting you off your feet and you throw up your legs behind you, losing yourself for a moment in just kissing him. “We could have our honeymoon in Paris,” you murmur as an afterthought.

 

“We could,” Harry agrees, grinning and then he spins you into his arms, hugging you from behind. “Walks along the river, seeing all the sights...”

 

“Like the Louvre,” you sigh, happily. “And Notre Dame.”

 

“Eating _pan au chocolat_ and _amuse-bouche,”_ Harry agrees.

 

“What’s that?” you ask.

 

“I’ve no idea, but it sounds good,” he grins, causing you to giggle.

 

You turn and face him properly, pressing close to him. “You really think we can? I mean, you really think we’ve got a future together?”

 

Harry cups your face. “Put it this way, I’ve never thought about marrying any of my other girlfriends before.”

 

“Not even Taylor?”

 

“Especially not Taylor.” He grins. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

 

“Like I’d ever be able to,” you grin, and then, looking up at him, you add softly, “It’s really getting serious, isn’t it? I mean, us?”

 

Harry brings his forehead down to rest it on yours. “Is that ok?” he asks, gently.

 

You smile. “Yeah, Harry. It’s more than ok.” Then, you fling your arms around his neck and hug him. “I mean, you do realise that this is the longest I’ve ever actually been in a relationship, don’t you?”

 

He gives you a little squeeze. “In that case, I’m honoured.”

 

You feel a tingling inside as you start to get dressed. Even when the others were teasing you about getting married, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead into your relationship. You’d been nervous enough about getting through the whole meeting-the-parents bit, but now...now you could actually see it all clearly, all Harry’s been picturing.

 

Harry hesitates as he pulls on a clean shirt and then turns to you as you make to pull off his other one. “Why don’t,” he says, walking up and stopping your hands, “you hang onto that for me until I get back?”

 

You look up at him in surprise. “Are you sure?” you stammer. “Won’t you miss it?”

 

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” Harry replies with a smile.

 

You return his smile and sniff the sleeve. “It smells like you,” you say.

 

Harry leans forward and kisses you. “You’ve given me this,” he smiles, tapping the side of his neck, where the bruise is now darker than it was earlier. “It’s only fair I give you something to remember me by.”

 

You move your head and kiss the bruise gently. “I really do miss you when you’re away,” you say, softly. “I didn’t know I could miss someone so much until I met you.”

 

Harry smiles and takes your hand. “Ready?”

 

“Just about,” you say, picking up your bag and stuffing your own T-shirt inside it before grabbing your jacket.

 

“Won’t be long,” Harry says as you walk into the main room to find the others sprawled around the sofa and chairs. Niall looks like he’s passed out, bless him.

 

“See you, _[Y/N],”_ Liam says, and the others, sans Niall, say “Yeah, bye, _[Y/N].”_

 

“Bye, guys,” you smile, giving them a small wave before letting Harry lead you out of the room. You can’t help wondering, as you leave, whether Simon actually got any sleep or whether he spent the entire night plotting his next move. At any rate, you’re very glad when you don’t bump into him as you make your way with Harry down to the car.

 

“You ok?” Harry asks, softly, as you climb in.

 

You realise that your worry must have shown on your face and you glance at him. “Just...I feel like Simon’s watching us, waiting to make his next move.”

 

“He’s not going to hurt you, _[Y/N],”_ Harry says, squeezing your hands. “I’m not going to let him.”

 

You smile, shyly. “Maybe I’m just worrying for nothing.”

 

Even so, you don’t feel properly safe until the car pulls up outside your flat, but luckily Harry takes your mind off your fears by kissing you dizzy. “Just two more shows,” he says, “and then after that, I’m all yours.”

 

You laugh. “Don’t relax too much, you’re dining at mine after that, remember?”

 

“Can’t wait,” Harry replies, kissing you one last time before letting you go.

 

“Call me when you get there,” you say, before blowing him a kiss and closing the car door. No sooner are you inside the flat, however, you get a text.

 

_Promise. Love Harry x_

You can’t help feeling a little smug as you lean against the door, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world wrapped in Harry Styles’ shirt and knowing that nothing Simon can do will stop you and your boyfriend having a future together. There’s a part of you that never wants to take his shirt off, because it still feels like he’s holding you, his scent, his warmth, clinging to your skin, and suddenly being away from him doesn’t feel so bad, because it’s like he’s left a piece of himself with you, a piece of his heart he’s happy for you to possess.

 

“I love you, Harry,” you whisper, happily, before going to your bedroom window and opening it. From your room, you’ve got a good view of the Bay and the hotel you were in just minutes ago. Somewhere in that hotel Simon will be preparing to manage the boys for another day, and it feels like you’ve made a very definite move, a step further on the battleground, and now it’s his turn. And you’re ready, you realise, whatever he’s going to do next, you’re ready.

 

“Checkmate, Simon,” you mutter, closing the window with a firm slam.


	17. "Dinner at Eight"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Harry have dinner with your parents - at last!

 

You’re nervous.

 

That’s all you can think. In fact you’re so nervous that you’re actually shaking. And you know that you really shouldn’t be. After all, it’s your parents you’re eating with tonight, not some random strangers you’ve never met before. How you’ll cope meeting Harry’s is beyond you.

 

He squeezes your hand and you glance up at him. “You’re shaking,” he says, tugging you closer and putting his arm around you.

 

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so nervous all of a sudden,” you stammer, trying to relax.

 

The days when he was away from you seemed to drag, but now that the tour’s over and he and the others are back in England, taking a month off, suddenly the date of the dreaded “meet-the-parents-dinner” has come rushing up to greet you before you were ready for it.

 

Harry smiles at you. “It’ll be fine,” he says.

 

You smile back. It’s not that you’re even worried your parents won’t like Harry. How can anyone not? Alright, so you didn’t when you first met him, but that was only because you didn’t give him a chance at first and your parents always give people a chance because, well, they’re your parents, they just always do. It’s just, well, you’ve never actually taken a boyfriend home for dinner before and you’re certain that it’s going to be one of the most awkward evenings of your life.

 

At any rate, you don’t say that, you just let him kiss the top of your head as you finally turn into the street your parents live in and point out which house is theirs. There’s no smoke coming out of the windows, so you assume that that’s a good thing, it means your Mum hasn’t tried an experiment for dinner. The second you knock on the door, though, the dogs go wild like they always do, barking in excitement and you hear the sound of your Dad almost falling over them to get to the door.

 

“Mouse! Shadow! Come on, kitchen!” he calls, and then a few minutes later the door opens. Your Mum grins at you.

 

“Hello,” she says, stepping back to let you both in. You note that the house is as spotless as if the Queen were coming to dinner, which only happens when your parents are expecting very special guests, and your Mum’s wearing her “casual dinner” outfit, the skinny jeans and pale blue sleeveless blouse under a cardigan. You also thank her silently in your head for making your Dad put on his neatest shirt and jeans instead of his usual gardening trousers and old jersey.

 

“Mum,” you say, feeling awkward even as you say it, “Dad, this is Harry.”

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Harry,” your Mum smiles, holding out her hand.

 

Harry shakes it, politely. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs _[Y/L/N]. [Y/N]’s_ told me a lot about you both.”

 

“Oh?” Your Dad raises his eyebrows as he also shakes Harry’s hand. “And I’ll bet none of it’s true, is it _[Y/N]?”_

 

“It’s all true,” you protest, your cheeks colouring.

 

“Don’t worry, she only said good things,” Harry smiles and you relax slightly as your Dad laughs. Your Mum sighs as the dogs start up again.

 

“Alright,” she says, going to the kitchen door, and then “Sorry about this, Harry, they get excited when we have visitors,” before she opens the door. You laugh as the two Jack Russell terriers come bounding out and make a bumbling rush towards you and Harry.

 

“Hello,” you coo as Shadow puts his paws up on your knees and tries to lick your face. Mouse is doing the same with Harry, but he grins and begins rubbing her behind the ears.

 

“I think she can smell the biscuits,” he says, and then, to everyone’s surprise, he produces a dog biscuit from his pocket and feeds it to her. Mouse almost takes his fingers with it in her eagerness but he doesn’t seem to mind, and then Shadow comes sniffing for one to, and gets one much to his delight. Harry looks up at you all with a grin. “Hope that’s ok. It’s just I’ve learned that the way to a girl’s heart is through her pets, so...”

 

Your Mum laughs. “Well, I think you’ve made some new friends, Harry. Come on through, dinner’s not quite ready yet.”

 

You lead Harry into the living room as your Dad says “Yes, and I hope you’re not a vegetarian, Harry, because _[Y/N]_ didn’t say, otherwise you’ll have to leave the beef.”

 

Harry smiles. “No, I’m not veggie, so you’re alright. Oh, I forgot, I brought this,” he adds, holding out the plastic bag. It had been your idea when he had asked you if he should bring anything. Most people often bring flowers to dinner with the parents, but you know that the best way to win over your parents is to bring them both something they enjoy drinking. So, en route to their place, you’d both popped into the nearest Tesco and picked up a bottle of Baileys and two small bottle of Newcastle Brown.

 

Your Dad grins at you as he inspects the contents of the bag. “I like this one already, _[Y/N],”_ he smiles, going into the kitchen.

 

You sit tentatively on the edge of the sofa and allow yourself to breath out. _So far, so good,_ you think, crossing your fingers for a second. Harry sits down beside you and takes your hand. You smile as your Mum comes back into the room. “So, Harry,” she says, after she’s shouted to your Dad to put the kettle on and then double checked that you two actually wanted a cup of tea (you both replied in the affirmative), “I suppose there’s no point asking you what it is you do, I imagine everyone in the music-listening world knows that,” and Harry laughs, politely. You roll your eyes a little but say nothing. “So, whereabouts are you from?” your Mum goes on.

 

“Holmes Chapel, but I’ve got a flat in Worcester now,” Harry replies. “My parents still live there, though.”

 

“Ah,” your Mum replies, shooting you an approving look. Suddenly you can’t wait for dinner to come. Your Dad comes in with cups of tea and Harry accepts his with a polite “Thank you.”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” you say, grateful for something to do with your hands. Your Mum’s now asking Harry about his family, but he seems perfectly happy to chat to her, so you allow yourself to relax even more.

 

_Perhaps this won’t be as bad as you think._

 

Sometimes you really need to listen to the voice in your head more often.

 

“So, you cope alright knowing that _[Y/N]’s_ not a fan of your music?” your Dad grins.

 

You shoot him a look but Harry just grins. “To be perfectly honest, Mr _[Y/L/N],_ it’s something of a relief. I mean, I love our fans to bits but sometimes it gets a bit too much, having them fawn over you all the time. When I met _[Y/N]_ I was actually glad that she wasn’t a fan.”

 

“And he wouldn’t stop pestering me until I agreed to date him,” you smile, fixing Harry with a fond expression.

 

“Well, I’m never one to give up easily,” Harry replies, smiling at you. “Especially when it comes to beautiful girls.”

 

You blush and when you glance at your parents, you just know that that’s gone down well in their books. You all manage to converse fairly easily and then Mum announces that dinner’s ready, so you all make your way into the dining room. She opted for one of the safest dining options, an ordinary roast dinner with beef, potatoes, carrots, peas and broccoli, and you and Harry both opt for water to wash it down with, even when your Mum tries to press you to have something a bit more exciting.

 

“This is delicious,” Harry says to her, politely.

 

“Aw, thank you, Harry,” she smiles back.

 

“Oi.” Your Dad taps her wrist. “I mashed the potatoes, remember?”

 

“Very well done, too,” Harry smiles at him, and the second you have a free hand, you slip it under the table to squeeze his, a “Well Done” gesture. He gives you a secret smile back and then answers your Mum’s questions about touring.

 

“It’s fun,” he tells her, “but it’s a bit exhausting too, what with all the rehearsals and then all the jet-lag after flights. Sometimes it’s a wonder we don’t all fall asleep on stage.”

 

_It’s going well._

_It_ is _going well. They seem to like him._

_See! What were you so worried about? Everyone loves Harry._

_Oh, shut up._

_Even you._

 

You smile, remembering how Harry talked about the two of you having a future. It seemed like a hopeful dream then, but now, seeing how your parents seem to have taken to him, you can actually see it happening. You can imagine your Mum squealing down the phone in excitement when you tell her you’re getting married, you can picture your Dad getting emotional about how it seemed like only yesterday you were running around in little dungarees and white frilly socks, and even though you’ve not yet met Harry’s parents, you can imagine them hanging out with yours of an evening whilst you and Harry cuddle on the sofa watching some rom-com that doesn’t have a patch on your relationship.

 

_Wow! You never thought about things like that with any of your last boyfriends!_

_None of my last boyfriends met my parents!_

_True._

Eventually dinner’s done and then your Mum brings out dessert, another safe choice, you note.

 

“Hope you like apple crumble, Harry,” she smiles, handing him a plate.

 

“Ah,” Harry replies, his eyes lighting up as he glances at you. “Crimble crumble.”

 

You laugh. “Crimble crumble.”

 

“Oh, you like Friday Night Dinner too?” your Dad asks with a surprised smile.

 

“Yeah, I love that show,” Harry grins. “Especially the episode where Johnny and Adam have that row about Adam’s toy rabbit. It just made me glad _I_ don’t have any brothers.”

 

“That episode made _me_ glad I’m an only child,” you reply, and everyone laughs. The crumble goes down well and then it’s back into the living room for after dinner coffee, or tea in your case because you’ve never been a huge fan of coffee.

 

Then your Mum asks the awkward question as the kettle’s boiling. “So, are you staying in Cardiff tonight, Harry, or...?”

 

She leaves the sentence lingering in the air and you feel yourself turning the same colour as your dress from the Doctor Who exhibition as you clear your throat and say, awkwardly, “Harry’s staying at mine tonight, Mum.”

 

“Oh.” Your Dad looks surprised but he makes a joke of it. “Top and tailing with one of the boys, eh?”

 

“It’s that or the kitchen,” Harry jokes back, the awkwardness fading.

 

Even so, when your Mum asks politely if you’ll help her in the kitchen, you’re still very, very flushed. She smiles at you and then asks, quietly, “You two _are_ being careful, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, Mum,” you say. “Very careful. Anyway, we can’t even do it tonight, you know, time of the month. Harry’s just sharing my bed, is all.”

 

“Oh.” Your Mum smiles even more broadly. “He seems like a very nice boy. I can’t think why you didn’t introduce him to us before.”

 

“Well, it’s not exactly easy telling your parents that suddenly you’re going out with someone you thought you hated,” you admit, sheepishly. “And, you know, I didn’t know how you guys would we react. I mean, it’s the first time I’ve ever really felt like this about a boy before.” You hear your Dad laugh from the living room and both of you turn your heads in that direction. You smile. “But...he really cares about me.”

 

“Oh, I know that, sweetie,” your Mum says. “I can tell just by looking that he’s crazy about you.” Then, she puts her arms around you and gives you a hug. “Well done. I was worried you’d spend the rest of your life stuck inside that flat just writing your books instead of being normal.”

 

You shake your head at the way she phrases it. “Thanks, Mum, you’re always great for boosting my self-esteem.”

 

Still, you just know it’s been a success, and you’re feeling so happy right now that not even a threat from Simon could bring you down, although you haven’t had anything from him since that note. It’s like he’s backed down completely, although somehow you doubt that. Still, you’re not going to start thinking about that right now. It’ll only start you worrying and you were nervous enough before.

 

You bring the cups back into the living room with your Mum and as you sit down beside Harry, he sends you one of those teasing “Missed You” looks that makes your heart melt. The dogs have emerged from the kitchen and are both curled up at his feet, looking quite content. You smile, wondering again why you were ever so nervous about this.

 

Eventually it’s time to leave, and you might be hallucinating but something tells you that your parents are more sorry to see Harry go than you.

 

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Harry,” your Dad says, shaking his hand.

 

“Thanks,” Harry smiled. “It’s been a pleasure being here. I can’t believe you were able to put up with me for this long.”

 

“I’ll call you guys,” you say.

 

“You’d better,” your Mum says, shaking her head.

 

“Don’t worry, Mrs _[Y/L/N],_ I’ll remind her,” Harry teases and then ducks when you swat at him.

 

“Oh, and Harry?” says your Dad at the door. “You can drop the formalities. It’s _[Y/D/F/N]_ and _[Y/M/F/N].”_

 

You beam at them both as Harry grins. “I’ll try to remember that.”

 

He takes your hand as you leave and as you walk around the corner, you grin up at him. “They like you. No, wait, scratch that; they love you.”

 

“Good,” Harry laughs in relief. “Because I have a confession to make.”

 

“Oh? What?”

 

“I was more nervous in there than you were.”

 

“No way!” you laugh.

 

“It’s true,” Harry insists. “I mean, I made out I was fine but inside I was shaking worse than _you_ were.”

 

“My brave Puppy,” you smile, reaching up to kiss him.

 

“Thank you for not calling me that in there,” Harry says. “That could have been really embarrassing. It’s bad enough Louis knows.”

 

“Whoa, wait.” You stop, bringing him to a halt. “Louis knows I call you that?”

 

Harry offers you an apologetic smile. “Not my fault. He was reading texts over my shoulder, _without_ my permission.”

 

You shake your head. “He’s not going to tell the others, is he?”

 

“Not unless he wants to wake up in hospital with both legs in plaster,” Harry replies, as you start walking again. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around you and you smile, tucking yourself into his side. Right now you are so looking forward to being in bed with him, and just cuddling. You’ve been feeling awful all day because of your period and the thought of being warm under the duvet with him is very, very appealing right now.

 

“Love you, Harry,” you smile, still marvelling at how well the evening went.

 

“Love you too, _[Y/N],”_ Harry replies, holding you close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In case you hadn't figured, [Y/D/F/N] = Your Dad's First Name and [Y/M/F/N] = Your Mum's First Name.)


	18. "So Much Better"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes you feel better during your period...

“I hate being a woman,” you groan.

 

It’s true. There are times when you really, really hate it. Like when you catch men giving you pervy or lecherous looks when you’re walking through town or trying to buy a drink in a bar with your friends, although thankfully that hasn’t happened since you started dating Harry (bar that incident in Hereford when he saved you from that drunk), or when you read books by people like Margaret Atwood that are supposed to be about feminism but end up being about bad things happening to girl characters and the characters doing nothing whatsoever about it (how is that feminism, for crying out loud, when it’s so anti-feminist?)

 

And times like today, right now, when you’re feeling completely rotten.

 

“Sorry, are you the same girl who said only the other day she was glad she _was?”_ Harry asks with a small smile.

 

“It’s alright for you,” you say, turning to look at him. You’re lying on your bed, curled up in a ball on your side with Harry holding you from behind and a horrible twisting feeling like knots inside your stomach, even though you took a painkiller a while ago, it feels like it still hasn’t kicked in yet. Your back’s aching too. “You don’t have to put up with this every month.”

 

Harry pulls you closer and nuzzles the crook of your neck. “Wish there was something I could do,” he murmurs, kissing you there.

 

You instantly feel bad for being so down. You know you should feel happy. You and Harry had a great morning together, you went for breakfast in the cafe’, you had a walk around Cardiff, it’s been a nice day and no one’s sprung on you out of the blue to take a scandalous shot of you and your celebrity boyfriend that could wind up on the front page of tomorrow’s paper, you’ve got no reason to feel blue. Except one; that fact that you’re on your period and the cramps came on halfway through your wonderful day out, so you had to cut it short to come home and take some painkillers.

 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” you say, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “This isn’t any fun for you either, is it?”

 

He offers you a comforting smile. “It’s ok, _[Y/N]._ I like holding you like this.”

 

“Mm, I know but you shouldn’t have to give up everything just to look after me,” you sigh.

 

“I’m your boyfriend, it’s what I’m here for,” Harry insists, kissing the back of your head.

 

You smile and then wriggle with a sigh against another cramp. “Oh, my back,” you mutter.

 

Harry raises his head and then says “I’ve got an idea. Hold on.” You frown at him as he gets up but before you can ask, he’s ducked into the bathroom. You sigh and sit up slightly, rubbing your stomach and back. Harry comes back in, holding up two towels which he promptly dumps onto the bed beside you. “Um, have you got any body lotion or anything like that here?”

 

Surprised by such a random question, you have to think for a second. “Um, yeah, there’s a bottle in the bathroom, on the shelf. Why?”

 

Harry just pops back into the bathroom and then, over his shoulder, calls “Come on, get your clothes off.”

 

“What?” you laugh, wondering what the hell is going on. Harry comes back in, the bottle of lotion in his hand, and then gestures for you to strip. You fold your arms and indicate the towels. “Not until you tell me what this is all about.”

 

“I’m going to give you a massage,” Harry says, simply.

 

 _“Aw,”_ you say, your heart melting a little at that. None of your previous boyfriends have ever offered to do that for you, period or not. You wriggle off the bed and start pulling your dress off over your head whilst Harry arranges one towel on the bed for you to lie on. You tug off your leggings and then hesitate when you reach your bra. “Would you like to do the honours?” you ask Harry, holding out your arms.

 

He turns to you and grins. “It would be my pleasure, _[Y/N].”_

 

You giggle and then as he unfastens your bra and drinks in your almost naked form once more, you reach up, pressing against him and kiss him, softly. “Thank you,” you murmur. “You’re very sweet.”

 

Harry smiles and kisses you again before murmuring “Come on, on the bed.”

 

“Excuse me?” you tease, giving him a look.

 

He returns it with the lost puppy look. _“Please_ get on the bed?”

 

“Better,” you smile, before taking the other towel from his hands to cover your lower half with, even though you’re technically already covered down there, and clambering onto the first towel. You arrange yourself until you’re quite comfortable and Harry climbs onto the bed to kneel beside you. “Have you ever done this before?” you ask before he can touch you.

 

Harry shrugs. “Once or twice.”

 

_Ok, do I want to know?_

 

_No, you don’t! Just let it go for God’s sake!_

“Harry,” you begin.

 

_Don’t go there!_

 

“Yeah?” Harry asks.

 

_Stop, stop, STOP! I am commanding you!_

 

“Can I ask you something?” you say, pushing yourself up on your elbows and turning to him.

 

Harry notes the serious look on your face and adopts a similar one himself. “What’s up?” he asks, looking slightly worried.

 

_Don’t say it! Don’t say it! Don’t say it!_

 

“What’s your magic number?” you say, closing your eyes.

 

_You idiot!_

 

To your surprise, though, Harry’s not offended that you asked. He leans over and touches your shoulder, causing you to open your eyes and meet his comforting expression. “Four,” he says, calmly. “Including you.”

 

You’re surprised, because you were expecting it to be higher than that. “Oh,” you stammer, “I thought-”

 

He gives you a look. “What; that I had a different girl every week like Joey in Friends? No. In my entire life I’ve had five girlfriends, you included, and two of them were before I was even famous. Actually my first was back when I was thirteen, so I don’t know if that actually counts because we only went out for a couple of weeks, but...” He gives you a shrug. “So, that’s four I’ve slept with, you included.”

 

You cover your face with your hands. “Harry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I felt the need to ask, it’s just-”

 

 _“[Y/N],_ it’s fine,” Harry interrupts, leaning over to kiss you. “Really. And you know something?”

 

“What?” you ask.

 

He smiles at you. “I haven’t been in a relationship with any of them as long as I have with you.”

 

You smile back and duck your head, slightly embarrassed. “Funny, neither have I.”

 

He gives your shoulders a little shove and you take it as a sign to resume your original position on the towel. There’s a small pause and then he begins to massage the lotion into your back and shoulders. “So, go on then, what’s your magic number? I told you mine.”

 

_Damn it!_

 

“Well, I’ve been out with six people, including you,” you say, blushing deeply, “but two of them were, you know, pre-teen romances, so obviously I didn’t...” You shake your head and start again. “I mean...magic number’s like you, four, but boyfriends, six, just two were when I was younger...”

 

“When was your last one?” Harry asks.

 

You hesitate, not sure of whether it’s his attempt to put you at ease or not. “Um...”

 

“It’s alright, you can tell me,” Harry says, working the muscles in the small of your back.

 

“Nearly three years ago,” you admit. “In my last year of college.” You’re both quiet for a while, Harry concentrating on massaging you and you concentrating on enjoying it, which you are, immensely, he’s amazing at it, and then you say “But out of all the ones I’ve had, you’re definitely the best.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Harry jokes, and then when you giggle, he leans over you and murmurs, “and that goes for you too,” before kissing your cheek gently.

 

The pain in your back’s almost completely gone, you realise, a massage was just what you needed. Or maybe it was just talking with Harry that took your mind off it. At any rate, you’re feeling a lot better now, so you just lie in silence and enjoy it until you finally feel Harry stop and press a kiss between your shoulder blades before murmuring “Feeling better?”

 

You smile as you push yourself up and turn to face him. “So much better,” you say, before leaning up to kiss him. What starts off as just a gentle “Thank You” kiss quickly turns into a full-blown passionate snogging session and as Harry wriggles out of his shirt, you curse yourself inwardly for being on your period at a time like this. Still, this is very sexy without having to lead to sex itself, you suppose, and that’s one of the things you love about Harry is that he doesn’t always want sex from you, he can be perfectly happy just cuddling you without expecting to get anything from it, or just sitting watching a film with you snuggled up to him, or just lying in bed with you fully clothed and talking; he’s not got some kind of obsession with it like _some_ boyfriends you won’t mention. You could, but you won’t.

 

But your saucy little session gets cut short by the sound of a mobile going off and Harry pulls away from you with a sigh. “Bloody hell,” he mutters, scrambling over to where he’s left his phone and you sigh yourself as you reach over to pull your bra back on. Harry answers his phone. “Hello, Mum,” he says, sounding slightly resigned as he says it, well, he would do, she’s just interrupted him in the middle of something after all. Your eyes widen and you feel your cheeks flushing as you lean over for your dress. Harry hands it to you, listening on the phone, and then says “Yeah, sorry, I’ve been busy.”

 

“Do you want to use the kitchen?” you mouth at him, indicating in that direction, thinking it’ll probably be less awkward for him. He gives you a grateful thumbs up sign and leaves the room, saying “Well, I’ve had stuff on. You know, I do have a life outside the band, Mum.”

 

The second he’s gone, you suddenly wonder whether you’ve done the right thing, sending a shirtless Harry Styles into your kitchen when your flatmates could be in there. If any of them are, they’ll really start talking. Colouring even more, you wriggle back into your clothes and put away the towels and the lotion, wondering exactly what Harry’s telling his Mother. You wonder if he’s going to mention that he’s here with you.

 

_Lord, I wonder if he’ll mention he spend the night here!_

 

You fan yourself, trying to bring the heat in your face down a bit.

 

_Calm down, [Y/N], it’ll be ok._

 

You make your way back into the bedroom and clamber awkwardly onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and fidgeting with the duvet, unsure why you’re so nervous about Harry having a conversation with his Mother. Well, you guess it’s because you’re wondering how much he’s told her about you. From all the books you’ve ever read, meeting you boyfriend’s Mother is always awkward, although you’ve never actually experienced it first-hand yet, unless you count with your first two boyfriends, but that was back when you were too young to take this dating thing seriously.

 

You’re just wondering how long he’s going to be when the door opens and Harry comes back in saying “Sounds great. Ok, I’ll let you know. Yeah, bye Mum,” and then hangs up. He grins at you, climbing onto the bed beside you. “What have you got planned for next Saturday?”

 

“Saturday?” you repeat. “Nothing, as far as I know. Why?”

 

“Because you’re meeting my parents,” Harry replies, with a cheeky smile. “We’re all having dinner at my place.”

 

“Oh, God,” you say, covering your face with your hands.

 

Harry pulls you to him and wraps you in a warm hug. “It’ll be fine,” he insists. “They’re going to love you.”

 

“I hope so,” you sigh.

 

“Look, even if they don’t for some reason, I still will and isn’t that the main thing?” Harry points out, looking at you.

 

You manage a smile. “Yeah.”

 

He nuzzles your nose with his before murmuring “So, where were we again before we were so rudely interrupted?”

 

You giggle and reach up to slide your arms around his neck. “Right about here,” you smile, before closing the distance between your lips with another kiss.


	19. "I Really Like You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally meet Harry's family...

_Deep breath._

_Breathe._

_Relax._

_Sit up._

_No inappropriate jokes._

_Politely listen._

_Oh, jeez, I’m in trouble! Again!_

No, you’re not practising for your Graduation ceremony. You’re pacing Harry’s place nervously, awaiting the arrival of his family. A feeling like a thousand butterflies has just exploded in your stomach when Harry told you that his sister just texted him to say that they’re on their way and you feel like if you get any more nervous you might faint.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ calm down,” he says, grabbing your shoulders to keep you in one place. You take a deep breath and it comes out in a shudder. Harry offers you a comforting smile. “They’re going to love you.”

 

“What if they don’t?” you sigh. To be perfectly honest, the whole Simon ordeal has now made you paranoid about meeting new people. “What then?”

 

“They will,” Harry insists, looking straight into your eyes. “And even if they don’t for some reason, I still will and isn’t that what really matters?”

 

Much as you hate to admit it, he is right and you manage a weak smile. “Yeah,” you say.

 

Harry pulls you into a tight hug. “You’re going to be fine,” he says, and then, stepping back to look at you, adds “And you look beautiful.”

 

You blush. _“Harry,”_ you say, looking at your feet. Alright, you think you look kind of nice in your denim shirt-dress over leggings and boots, but you wouldn’t go that far.

 

“What, you always look beautiful,” Harry insists, leaning in to kiss you.

 

“Don’t muck my hair up,” you murmur against his lips as you feel him cup the back of your head, gently. Harry just smiles and kisses you again.

 

Then you hear a knock at the door and your stomach drops, like that time you went on Bounce at Oakwood with one of your Mum’s mate’s daughters. Never again, you’d always said, but suddenly the prospect of meeting Harry’s family makes Bounce seem like a Sunday picnic.

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Gem,” he says, “she always knocks like that.”

 

“Oh, God,” you mutter, dropping onto the sofa.

 

Harry quickly drops down beside you. _“[Y/N],_ it’s ok,” he insists, pressing a kiss to your temple before getting to his feet. The knocking’s getting louder, and you can hear a girl calling “Hurry up, loser, it’s windy out here!”

 

“Alright, alright,” Harry laughs, leaving you to answer the door. You twist your hands together in your lap, nervously, hearing him open the door and have some playful banter with his sister, before you glance up to see her come in the room, a great big grin plastered over her face. She looks so much like Harry right now it’s scary. You get to your feet and before you can say anything, she’s crossed the room in three great bounds and hugged you tightly.

 

“Hey, I’m Gemma, Harry’s told me all about you and I love you already!” she say all in one breath.

 

You blink at her as she lets go, grinning all over her face, and then glance at Harry, who’s leaning in the doorway, also grinning at you both. “Ok, I seem to have fallen into Pride and Prejudice here,” you joke, awkwardly.

 

“Gem, let the girl breathe,” says another voice and a woman who can only be Harry’s Mother comes into the room, carrying a plastic bag which Harry quickly takes from her. Gemma rolls her eyes. “And give your Dad a hand.”

 

“No, that’s ok,” says yet another voice and as the man it belongs to walks by the door, he suddenly stops and frowns as if trying to remember something.

 

“This way,” Harry prompts with a grin, leading him into the kitchen, and leaving you alone with his Mother and sister.

 

_Oh, shit, what now?_

 

Luckily Gemma saves you from having to make smalltalk by calling into the kitchen after them “Maybe you should draw him a map, Haz!”

 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” comes the man’s voice back to her. A second later he comes back with Harry, who goes over to you and takes your hand. _“[Y/N],”_ he says, “this is my Mum, Anne, and my step-Dad, Robin.”

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” you say, shyly.

 

“And it’s nice to finally meet you too, _[Y/N],”_ Anne smiles, coming forward. “Harry’s told us a lot about you.”

 

“Oh,” you say. “Well, in that case, I’m sorry.”

 

Robin laughs. “No, nothing but good things, don’t worry.”

 

You relax a little as Harry squeezes your hand and you turn to him. “So you left out my terrible taste in cinema snacks, then?” you tease, and everyone laughs.

 

“Did I say that?” Harry asks, pretending to be surprised, and then a second late you’re surprised for real as he kisses your forehead. “Sorry,” he adds, “being a terrible host here, does anyone want anything to drink?”

 

“Oh, just some water, thanks, Harry,” says Robin.

 

“What have you got that’s alcoholic?” Gemma asks, already seated on the nearest sofa.

 

“Come see for yourself, lazybones,” Harry grins, before turning to Anne. “Mum?”

 

“I’ll crack open that wine we brought,” she replies, moving towards the kitchen, adding as she taps him playfully on the way, “See I knew you wouldn’t have any.”

 

Harry turns to you. _“[Y/N]?_ The usual?”

 

You smile. “Thanks.”

 

“Ok, I’ll take what she’s having,” Gemma calls after him.

 

Robin sits down and you do too, feeling a bit more at ease around them. “So, Harry was telling me that you’re a writer,” Robin smiles, in a friendly manner.

 

You return it. “Trying to be,” you say. “I’m studying it at Uni.”

 

“In Cardiff?”

 

“Yeah, in Cardiff Met, not Cardiff Uni, that’s a completely different building.”

 

He nods. “Yes, I’ve been to Cardiff a few times; I think I know where you mean.”

 

Gemma grins broadly at you. “Maybe you should try your hand at songwriting,” she says, and then, raising her voice, “Try and write some better stuff for Harry’s band to sing!”

 

“I heard that!” Harry calls from the kitchen and you all laugh.

 

“Are you not a fan either?” you ask.

 

“Nah,” Gemma replies, with a shake of her head. “I mean, the other guys are great and all and I’m glad he’s got somewhere, but some of their songs are bit...ichy.”

 

“How do you mean?” Robin asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

“Just sort of a bit, you know, sickly sweet...” Gemma tries to explain.

 

You jump in to help her. “And a bit sycophantic.”

 

She turns to you with wide eyes and then exclaims “Ok, where have you been all my life?”

 

Harry comes back in with two glasses of cider. “Your drink, Madame,” he jokes, handing one to Gemma.

 

“And about time too,” she jokes back. “So hard to get the staff these days.”

 

You giggle as Harry hands you your glass. Anne comes in with a glass of water, which she hands to Robin and then sits herself down beside you with her wine. “So, have you always lived in Cardiff?” she asks, conversationally.

 

“Pretty much,” you say, “but my Mum’s from Manchester and we’ve kind of got family scattered all over the place, some of my cousins live in London.”

 

“I thought your accent sounded familiar,” Robin smiles.

 

“Yeah, a lot of people say I don’t sound Welsh,” you smile. “Neither does my Dad, but his parents are from the Valleys, so they’ve got quite thick accents.”

 

Harry’s had to make do with sitting the other side of Anne. You know he’d rather be cuddled up close to you, but he’s got no choice unless he wants to turf his Mother off the sofa altogether. The tension’s easing off, however, and you find you’re all able to converse quite easily with one another. You end up being asked the usual questions, things like what kind of things your course does and whether you’re a second or third year, stuff you can answer really easily. Gemma asks what music you’re into and is both surprised and delighted to find that you share similar tastes there. The more you talk with them all the more comfortable you get and you even tell them about the book you’re working on writing at the minute, something you haven’t even told your own parents about. Whenever they ask, you always just brush them off with a vague “Yeah, it’s a teenage romance,” or “I’ve got block on one chapter,” and leave it at that. With Harry’s family, though, you’re soon going into detail about it and they all listen politely until you finish up with “And that’s all I’ve actually got for it so far, and I’m not particularly happy with Chapter Three at the minute, so I’ll probably change that at some point, but...yeah.”

 

“I am so buying that when it’s published,” Gemma grins. “Can’t you even give me a hint to how it ends?”

 

“Not really,” you confess. “I don’t actually know myself.”

 

Harry goes to check on the dinner and then comes back with a grin of “Dinner’s ready, I hope everyone’s hungry.”

 

This time he’s able to sit beside you properly, and you end up with Gemma on your other side, on the end, with Anne and Robin opposite you. Harry’s cooked pasta with Mediterranean vegetables and chicken in a creamy sauce with cheese and it’s delicious. You can’t help smiling at him and saying “Funny, the first meal you ever cooked for me was pasta.”

 

“Because that’s all he can cook,” Gemma jokes.

 

Harry swats at her with a teatowel. “It’s easy for visitors!”

 

“Pack it in, you two,” Anne smiles, fondly.

 

Harry smiles at you as he slides into a seat next to you and you feel warm inside, and not just from the pasta either. His family genuinely do seem to like you, especially Gemma, who’s treating you like the sister she never had. She asks about your dress and then launches into a rant about her favourite shops, causing Harry to mouth “Sorry,” at you when she’s not looking. You don’t mind, though. Anne seems to have taken to you too, which was what really worried you. After all, most Mothers have a thing, don’t they, about no woman ever being good enough for their son, same as most Fathers have a thing about no man being good enough for their daughter. But even if she does think you’re not good enough for Harry, at least she’s being nice about it.

 

The conversation keeps changing, going from shops to favourite films and television shows to literature to current events to just about every conversation topic out there. You can’t actually remember the last time you laughed so much, but Harry’s family are like that, they keep making you laugh, and it’s nice, there’s a friendly atmosphere settling around and you really feel at home with them.

 

Eventually though, dinner over, whilst you’re all recovering from dessert (Millionaire’s Shortcake Cheesecake, again, yay!), Robin says “Well, I suppose we’d better get back or else we’ll miss our connection.”

 

You’re a bit sad to see them all go, to be honest, especially when Anne pulls you into a warm hug when she says goodbye and says softly “You must come up to us next time, _[Y/N]._ We’d love to have you over.”

 

“Thanks,” you whisper back, so moved you can barely speak.

 

Gemma hugs you too. “We’ve got to hang out sometime,” she grins.

 

“Maybe after I’ve graduated,” you smile. “I’ll have plenty of time then.”

 

Harry shows them all to the door and the second they’re gone he turns to you with a grin. “Am I allowed to say “I told you so?”

 

“No way,” you say.

 

He gives you a hug that lifts you off your feet and you cling to him with a little squeal of delight. “They loved you,” he says, kissing your neck. “I’ve never seen Gem take to one of my girlfriends like that before.”

 

You smile and bury your head in his shoulder. “Well, I loved them too. They were nice.”

 

Harry drops you back on your feet and then kisses you. “Of course you realise this means you’ll be invited for Christmas dinner?” he says. “And you know what Christmas dinners with other people’s families mean; complete and utter chaos.”

 

“Sounds perfect to me,” you say, and then, with a sigh you add “Alright, Puppy, you can say “I told you so.”

 

“I told you so,” Harry grins, smugly.

 

“Do you ever get tired of being right?” you ask as he leads you back into the living room.

 

“Nope,” Harry replies, pulling you down beside him on the sofa. You wind up cuddling together to watch some old black-and-white British murder mystery comedy spoof by the same guys from the Carry On films, but it’s nice, it’s nice just being able to cuddle up and have a laugh together on the sofa and feeling like you can breathe out again now that you know you’ve definitely got Harry’s parents’ approval.

 

 

**Harry’s POV**

Not long after everyone’s gone and _[Y/N]_ and I are cuddled up on the sofa together, watching a film, I get a text from Gemma.

 

Beep.

 

_Marry her!_

 

I smile and pull _[Y/N]_ closer to me. _Maybe one day,_ I think, _I will._

 

 


	20. "The Power of Love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just smut and fluff for you and Harry...

Sunday mornings usually only mean one thing for you, archery; but before you’ve even opened your eyes you can hear the tap-tap-tattering of raindrops on the window, so that’s out of the question now. It’s just as well. You really don’t want to have to get up. Well, you’re nestled close in your cute popstar boyfriend’s arms, who _would_ want to get up in your position?

 

You open your eyes, slowly, and see that Harry’s still fast asleep beside you. He’s got one arm loosely circling your waist whilst the other is bent up between the two of you, his hand almost on the pillow. He looks so adorable when he’s asleep that you can’t help but smile.

 

Your eyes travel down his body, taking in every toned, slender aspect, so smooth, so irresistible, and before you can stop yourself, your fingers are moving, gently stroking every contour, tracing idle spirals along his sides. For some reason you find yourself remembering the first time you slept together in this bed, the second time you actually ever slept together (you wish you could remember more of the first time, but all you can actually remember is dragging Harry into your flat and tumbling into bed with him, along with a lot of kissing and touching in certain places and then waking up to the sound of him making breakfast for the pair of you the next day) and how you felt a bit self-conscious about being naked in front of him, and how he had whispered that you were beautiful, how that had made you feel beautiful. It’s funny how you never really believed that until Harry said it. You had had boyfriends, and your own parents, say it to you before, but in the case of the boys you always knew that they were just saying it in order to get into your knickers, and with your parents, well, because they’re your parents, they’re automatically programmed to say things like that to you.

 

It’s always different with Harry somehow, though. He tells you that you look beautiful even when you’re dressed in your sweaty archery clothes and your hair needs washing, and he always says it sincerely, so you know that he means it.

 

You lean down and press your lips gently against his ribs, nuzzling up against him. _How is he so sweet all the time? He smells so nice. I wish we could stay like this forever, just like this, him and me, and nobody else, in this room, stuck in time like something out of Doctor Who._ You move your head, pressing a few kisses to his sternum _. I love it when we cuddle up like this, he’s so soft and warm..._

“Enjoying yourself?”

 

Harry sounds somewhat amused and you freeze, actually a little embarrassed that you woke him, or rather a little embarrassed that he caught you out. There’s no way you can pass this off as something you were doing unconsciously in your sleep.

 

_How the hell do we get out of this one?_

 

“Cavegirl...” Harry murmurs when you don’t respond. He runs a hand down your back and you feel shivers of anticipation go right through you at that. You close your eyes, still trying to think up a way out of this that doesn’t involve sacrificing your dignity. “I know you’re not asleep.”

 

 

You shrug and continue your idle tracing of his skin, moving your hands now to stroke his chest. “Just...lulling you into a sense of false security, is all,” you reply, casually, finally bringing your eyes up to meet his. Harry blinks at you, sleepily trying to understand what you mean and you bring your lips close to his ear to whisper tantalizingly _“Puppy,”_ before digging your fingers into his ribs. He lets out a yelp and tries to wriggle away from you as you grin, wickedly, teasing him by kissing his neck as he attempts to get away, finally rolling onto his back and flipping you on top of him.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ please!” Harry gasps, catching hold of your hands. “Cut it out!”

 

“Aw, well since you said “please...” you smile, letting up on him. After all, it’s not really fair when you know that he hates it and he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. You lean down and kiss him, and he smiles up at you, breathless from all your teasing. “Sorry,” you say, weakly.

 

He shakes his head. “You have a dark side, _[Y/N].”_

 

“Yeah, but you love that part of me, admit it,” you smile, coyly.

 

Harry grins, laying both hands on your waist. “I can honestly say I do,” he says, running his hands up and down your sides. You sigh and press closer to him, closing your eyes. “I told you once that I love everything about you, and I do.”

 

“Hm...” you sigh, leaning forwards and cuddling up against him. “I must have some flaws that you hate, though? I mean, everyone’s got things that annoy people, right?”

 

Harry hesitates. “Well...would you hate me if I pointed them out to you?”

 

“Probably,” you say, shrugging.

 

“Then I won’t.”

 

“But I do have some.”

 

“Maybe one or two.”

 

You exchange a smile and then Harry reaches up to kiss you. You sigh into his mouth and wriggle closer to him, feeling arousal pooling in your core already. “Harry...” you murmur between kisses. “Need you...now...”

 

“I know,” Harry murmurs back, already pressing his fingers against your clit. You’re already wet with anticipation for the feel of him, pressing up closer to him until he finally flips you beneath him and begins trailing kisses down your body. You arch your back and release him, twisting your fingers into the pillowcase as you part your legs, giving him the access he’s craving. Soon you’re biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure as you feel yourself come undone against his kisses but eventually his name escapes your lips in a soft moan and you throw your head back against the pillow, your legs trembling weakly. You don’t feel like you’re going to be able to stand up properly after this.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ have I ever told you that you taste absolutely wonderful?” Harry murmurs, raising his head. You shake yours, unable to speak coherently just yet. Harry crawls up level with you again, his brown creased in concern. “You ok?”

 

“Mh-hm...” you manage to say, licking your lips before adding “You just seem to keep getting better at that.”

 

Harry smiles and leans down to kiss you, nuzzling the crook of your neck, gently. “So...breakfast?”

 

“I don’t know if I can even walk after that,” you say. You just feel so breathlessly, so endlessly, happy right now, for the simple reason that Harry’s made you feel so good.

 

“Right,” Harry grins, tossing the covers off you both. “I’ll just have to carry you, then.”

 

 _“Harry,”_ you giggle but he’s already scooped you up, bridal-style, and manoeuvred the two of you out of bed. You throw your arms around his neck as he stops to retrieve something from the floor and then carries you out to the kitchen. “This can’t be hygienic,” you point out as he sits you on the counter.

 

“So what? It’s only us here,” Harry replies, handing you his shirt, which is what he’d retrieved from the floor earlier, along with his briefs. You simply shake your head and pull it on, once again revelling in the warmth and scent of him clinging to you. Covered up again, much to your disappointment, Harry goes to fill the kettle, but he stops and considers you for a second. He smiles. “You really do look cute in my clothes.”

 

“Hm, don’t think I can really say the same for you,” you tease, and you both laugh. “But thank you,” you add, reaching up to kiss him. “You’re very sweet.”

 

Harry smiles against your lips as he kisses you back. “So, what do you fancy?”

 

“Besides you?” you tease. “Um...”

 

You wind up making pancakes together. It’s surprisingly fun, although you very nearly get into a flour fight, which is quickly broken up when Harry decides that he doesn’t actually want to get flour on his clothes, and you both reminisce about times in your childhood when you’d make pancakes at school or with your parents.

 

“My Dad didn’t trust me in the kitchen for the longest time after that,” you finish after telling Harry the story of the time you spilled flour everywhere and Mouse and Shadow both dived into it and left white footprints all around the kitchen. There’d been an awful lot of hoovering and sweeping involved that day. Rather than sit at the kitchen table, you both sit up on the counter again, side by side, both with three pancakes each and a whole heap of maple syrup.

 

“Should have got in some bacon,” Harry says, swallowing his mouthful. “You know that tastes surprisingly good with maple syrup on it.”

 

“I know,” you smile, and then fix him with a fond look. “Come here, you’ve got syrup...” you say, reaching out to wipe a small trickle off his jaw. Harry just grins, cheekily, at you and then licks your finger. You smile and ruffle his hair. “You’re cute,” you say, going back to your breakfast.

 

“I try,” Harry teases. You’re aware of him watching you quite a bit and you remember listing that as one of the signs that he truly loves you. Actually, you realise that the more you think about that article you read, the more you see that Harry actually ticks every box.

 

_Wait, didn’t that article also say that if that happens, you’ve found the person you’re supposed to marry?_

 

_Hey, we’re having breakfast here! Why are you trying to ruin this by making me think about the future?_

_I’m just saying-!_

_Do you never shut up?_

_Please, you wouldn’t last a day without me!_

You shake your head and go back to your pancakes. “You ok?” Harry asks.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, and then, “Harry...do you ever feel like...you’re having conversations with your conscience sometimes?”

 

“Sometimes?” Harry repeats, shaking his head. “Try _all the time.”_

 

“Good,” you say in relief. “I thought it might just be me losing my marbles.”

 

You both laugh, awkward moment over, and when you’re both done, Harry hops off the counter, puts your empty plates in the sink and then spins around to face you. “What do you want to do now?” he asks.

 

“I’d like to take a shower,” you admit.

 

“Ok.” He picks you up again before you can protest and carries you into the bathroom.

 

“Shower with me?” you ask.

 

“Try and stop me,” he grins, kissing you.

 

Your legs feel firmer now so you clamber out of his arms, in a rather ungainly manner but you know he won’t mind, and peel off his shirt. Harry gives you another cheeky grin as he sheds his boxers and you clamber into the shower together. You help one another clean off and it’s nice, you realise, it’s nice being close like this, maybe next time you ought to suggest sharing a bath together. Afterwards, you both clamber out and dry off with some of Harry’s fluffy white towels, which he tells you later he always reserves for guests and that of course causes you to feel like someone very special, and blush, and pad back to his room to get dressed.

 

“This is easy,” you say, slowly, pulling your own T-shirt on over your head.

 

Harry glances at you. “Getting dressed?”

 

“No,” you laugh, turning to face him and gesturing at the space between the two of you. “I mean this, us, doing stuff like this together. I mean, most couples take ages before they’re comfortable with each other like this, but...” You shrug, letting the sentence trail off as you go up and wrap your arms around his neck. “I think you might be right. I think we probably do have a future together. Simon or no Simon,” you add.

 

Harry smiles as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Well, he hasn’t done anything to us lately. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.”

 

“Maybe,” you agree. “Maybe he can see how serious we’re getting.”

 

“Hope so,” Harry sighs, looking down for the first time today. “I mean, whichever way I look at it, I’ll lose out somewhere, and I don’t want to lose you _or_ the guys-”

 

“Hey,” you interrupt, gently, pressing closer to him. “It’ll be ok. Love always wins out in the end, doesn’t it?” You lean up and kiss him before adding “How does your ex-girlfriend’s song go again? “You be the Prince and I’ll be the Princess...”

 

Harry grins. “It’s a Love Story...”

 

“Baby, just say “Yes,” you both sing and then giggle together.

 

“You know that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you sing,” Harry says. You blush and look at your feet. “You’ve got a nice voice.”

 

“Thank you,” you say, softly.

 

“Why don’t you let me hear it more often?” Harry asks, playfully butting your forehead with his own.

 

You shrug. “I don’t really like singing in public all that much. Anyway,” you add, before he can object, “there’s only room for _one_ singer in this relationship.”

 

Harry laughs and as he leans down to kiss you again, you find yourself thinking _Yes, this is it, this is the way it’s meant to be, just you and me, we’re going to be ok, doesn’t matter what Simon thinks he can do to split us up, it’s not happening!_

_We’re going to be fine._

_...So, why does the term Famous Last Words spring to mind?_


	21. "Beautiful Liar"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry did something in heart-breaking in Rome...but is all as it really seems?

 

Your phone goes. You smile and shake your head but answer it anyway.

 

“Bugger off,” you say, but fondly.

 

“But I’m bored,” Harry whines.

 

“And _I’m_ trying to write a book,” you laugh. “Come on, I don’t call you up whilst you’re writing an album.”

 

“Well, you never know,” Harry persists. “I could inspire you in some way.”

 

You give an exaggerated sigh but save your work and lean back in your chair. “Why can I never say “no” to you, Puppy?”

 

“I don’t know, Cavegirl, why can you never say “no” to me?” Harry asks, cheekily.

 

You shake your head again. “Probably because like all puppies, you can give me the big eyes and I instantly fall in love.”

 

Harry laughs, softly. “You do know that I can never say “no” to you either, right?”

 

“Can’t you?” you ask in surprise.

 

“Nope!” Harry replies, smugly.

 

“Alright, so you don’t mind lending me a million pounds, then?” you tease.

 

He laughs again. “Do you take cash or cheques?”

 

You laugh too. “Or you could just pay it into my account!”

 

“Well, as long as you pay me back when your book’s a bestseller,” Harry grins. “How’s it going, anyway?”

 

“Ah, not to well,” you sigh. “The main character’s just discovered her boyfriend’s cheating on her, or rather she thinks he is but he isn’t, it’s complicated, anyway, I’ve just got to that scene and I’m stuck.” You sigh again and shut down Word. “Maybe I need to take a walk, clear my head or something.”

 

“Or you could just talk to me,” Harry points out.

 

“Oh, yes, that’ll clear my head!” you joke, grinning.

 

It’s been almost a week since you and Harry had dinner with his family and now you’re back in your flat in Cardiff, writing, or rather trying to write, on your book since you’ve spent the last two days studying and writing up your Dissertation. It’s been a bit stressful, but thankfully Harry’s been very understanding if you’ve snapped at him just to let off a bit of steam, and he’s allowed you your space too, which is good. You wouldn’t want him to be one of those boyfriends who crave your attention 24/7.

 

You do end up talking to him for a good while, just about the usual stuff, families, friends, missing one another. You ask after Liam, Louis, Zayn and Niall, and Harry replies that they’re all alright at the last check and that the others keep teasing Niall about the amount of alcohol consumed during their Ireland concerts. He asks about your mates and you tell him that they’re all stressing about some work which they left ‘til the last minute and which you did the day you were given it, for which he teases you about being a “good girl,” after which you point out that you “can be very naughty when you want me to be, Puppy,” and you both end up laughing together.

 

“Can’t wait for tomorrow,” Harry says. You’ve arranged to meet up in the morning and Harry’s staying with you so that you can spend the weekend together. You’re looking forward to it too, even though you haven’t actually got anything planned, you’re just going to wing it, but it’ll still be fun because it’ll be with Harry.

 

“Me neither,” you smile. “It’s going to be great, just you and me.”

 

You hear a soft knocking on Harry’s end of the phone and Harry calls out “Hold on,” before adding, “That’s probably the guys; Louis and Zayn said they’d drop by if they could.”

 

“Go on, off you go,” you smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Harry?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

You grin, wickedly. “Don’t forget the stuff.”

 

“You mean the _stuff?”_ You can practically see his eyes widening eagerly.

 

“Oh, yes,” you say, tantalizingly.

 

“I love you, _[Y/N],”_ Harry smiles, and then you hear him call “Alright, don’t bash the door in!” before muttering to you “Idiots.”

 

You laugh. “Go on, it’s ok. Oh, and Harry?”

 

_“[Y/N]?”_

 

“I love you too.”

 

You can hear the smile in Harry’s voice as he says “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Bye, Harry,” you say and as you hang up you hear him call “I said I’m coming!” You laugh. The guys can get so impatient with him if he doesn’t open the door straight away; it’s almost like something right out of a bad sitcom.

 

You go back to your writing, or rather you try to, but ten minutes into drumming your fingers on the desk and trying to think up how to end the chapter, you get distracted by a new email from an address you don’t recognise.

 

With a frown, and praying it’s not a virus, you tentatively click on the “Open” button, hoping that your anti-virus software isn’t on the blink. The address just reads [XFS@googlemail.com](mailto:XFS@googlemail.com) and you're certain that it’s not from anyone you know, whilst the message simply reads like this:

 

_Your boyfriend is lying to you._

You blink and then feel a chill run through you as you try to quash down your panic. For a moment, you stare at the screen, and then, common sense prevailing, you click on the “Delete” button and discard it from sight. You go back to your writing, but then a few minutes later, you receive another email. Same address. Almost the same message.

 

_Didn’t you hear me? Your boyfriend is lying to you._

 

Hesitantly, and doubting that this is the right thing to do, you tap a response.

 

_Who is this? How did you get my address?_

 

Your unknown opponent responds a few minutes later.

 

_Wasn’t hard._

 

You tap another message.

 

_Who is this?_

 

Frantically you look for a way to block emails from this address on your webpage. The next email, however, isn’t something you expect.

 

_Doesn’t matter. Point is, your boyfriend is a liar. Don’t believe me? Click the link below._

 

You glance at what appears to be a video link. For a second, you hesitate, and then, feeling that it’ll probably be the only way to stop this person, to fend them off for good, you move your curser over the link, squeeze your eyes shut and click down.

 

Opening your eyes you see what appears to be a grainy security camera clip, showing Zayn outside some hotel room door. He knocks and says something inaudible, and a second later Harry emerges, grinning as he yanks on his jacket. They leave together and you blink, wondering what the hell is wrong with that, it’s Harry with Zayn, the way they always are together. Then, the clip snaps immediately to the same image of the door, the time now showing that it’s some hours since the first clip was taken, and this time there’s no one standing outside it. But the door opens anyway, and a bedraggled young girl whom you don’t recognise totters out, her make-up slightly smeared on her face, her clothes rumpled and slept in. She yanks her dress down properly, flicks her hair out of her eyes and pulls her bag up further on her shoulder, before walking out of shot.

 

The video promptly stops. The meaning is clear.

 

You feel your world come crashing down around you all over again.

 

 

**Harry’s POV:**

After I talk with _[Y/N]_ and let the guys in, we spend a good several hours playing Call of Duty before I have to firmly send them out so that I can go and pack.

 

“Aw, our Harry’s leaving us to go and live in Wales,” Zayn teases with a laugh as I shove them both out of the door.

 

“The way you two are going right now, I just might,” I tell them, shutting the door on their indignant responses and cursing myself for leaving my packing to the last minute. In the end, I get to distracted with that to call _[Y/N],_ so I just send her a text before I fall asleep. I wait about fifteen minutes before sleep finally takes me, and when I wake to the sound of my alarm, she still hasn’t responded.

 

_Perhaps she didn’t hear her phone go._

 

I tap out a sweet Good Morning message as I make breakfast, but she still doesn’t respond. Getting a bit worried, I decide to try and email her, but as I open up my laptop, I realise that I’ve got mail from an address I don’t recognise. With a frown I open it to see the link to a video. I click on it and find myself even more confused by the content of it. Then, as I glance at the “Recipients” section under the address box, I suddenly realise what’s going on.

 

 _[Y/N]’s_ email address is right next to mine in the “Recipients” box.

 

I quickly whip out my phone and call her. “Please pick up, _[Y/N],”_ I beg, and then she does, without saying anything.

 

 _“[Y/N],_ that email-!” I blurt, but before I can say anything else she interrupts me, her voice soft and trembling, like she’s trying not to cry.

 

“You promised me.”

 

 _“[Y/N],_ I swear-!”

 

I’m cut off again, this time by her hanging up on me. I groan, knowing that she won’t answer if I try again, so there’s only one way to make her see sense. I quickly snatch up my laptop, stuff it in my suitcase, garb the rest of my stuff and then hot-foot it to the station, this time cursing Worcester for being so far away from Cardiff. What seems like a lifetime later, I stumble off the train and hurtle all the way to her flat. By the time I get there, I’m panting so hard I can barely breathe and yet somehow I’ve still got strength to lift my arm and knock on the door, praying that if it’s _[Y/N]_ who answers, she won’t slam the door in my face.

 

Thankfully it’s one of her flatmates, at least I assume that’s who she is since I’ve never actually met them. At any rate, I’m past her before she can say anything and tapping on _[Y/N]’s_ door.

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ I gasp. _“Please...”_

The door flies open and she stares at me, incredulously, before muttering “Get in here,” seizing me by the front of my hoodie and yanking me into her room.

 

 

**Your POV:**

You close the door behind you but don’t say anything else. The room is filled with the sound of Harry trying to get his breath back. Slowly you turn to him, unsure of whether to pity him because he’s clearly exhausted, love him because he’s clearly just run all the way here from the station to see you or murder him for what you’ve seen in that video. You cast your eyes to the floor, unable to look at him at the minute.

 

“Do you...mind if I sit?” Harry gasps, collapsing onto your bed.

 

“Knock yourself out,” you say, stiffly. You go to move past him but he catches hold of your arm and pulls you into his lap. You struggle but he holds you tightly.

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ he protests, cupping your face with one hand, his other arm wrapped tightly around your body so that you can’t throw him off. “Listen to me.” You finally meet his gaze. “I know what that video showed you but it’s not what it looks like.”

 

“What it looks like?” you repeat, wriggling in his grip. “What it looks like is my boyfriend doing exactly what he promised me he wouldn’t do!”

 

_“[Y/N]-!”_

 

“How could you do that to me?”

 

“I didn’t!” You jump at the sharpness of his tone. Taking a deep breath, Harry calms down. “I have never cheated on you and I certainly don’t plan to. Now, will you please let me explain?”

 

“I don’t understand,” you say, slowly. “She’s...in your room...”

 

“She was but I wasn’t in there with her,” Harry says, calmly.

 

You look into his eyes and just know that he’s telling the truth. “Then...who was? Zayn?”

 

“No one was.” Harry pulls you close, tucking your head onto his shoulder and stroking your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. You relax a little against him as he explains. “It was when we were in Rome. She was one of the girls at the after-party with us, had a few too many, and well, rather than let her walk home in that state, we decided to let her stay in one of our rooms. I drew the short straw so I ended up sharing a bed with Zayn that night.”

 

“So...she was just asleep on your bed...and you were with Zayn?” you whisper.

 

“Yes,” Harry replies, kissing the top of your head. “I kept my promise. I never strayed from you once, cross my heart and drop down dead if I’m lying.”

 

You flop against him in relief, feeling tears overwhelm you. _“Harry...”_ you say into his shoulder before you’re engulfed by sobs.

 

“Love, I know, I know,” Harry murmurs, kissing your hair again and hugging you properly. You slip your arms around him and bury your face against him. “I know how that video made it look, but you have to believe me, nothing happened between me and her, or any of us and her.”

 

You nod, slowly, wondering how you could have ever jumped to such a conclusion. “I believe you, Puppy,” you choke out.

 

Harry rubs your back, whispering softly to you to soothe you until you feel like you’ve finished crying. Sitting up properly on his lap, you wipe your eyes and fish for a tissue in your pocket. “Sorry,” you say, realising you’re still on his lap. “Am I a lump? Am I squashing you?”

 

Harry frowns. “No; what makes you say that?”

 

“My last boyfriend would have said that,” you say, shrugging. It was true, if you even so much as cuddle up tight to him in bed or put your legs over his or something he’d shrug you off and say you were squashing him. In the end you’d just given up trying to cuddle up to him.

 

“Well, then your last boyfriend’s nuts,” Harry says, looking shocked that anyone would ever dare say such a thing about his _[Y/N]._ It cheers you up a little. He brushes your hair out of your eyes. “You ok?”

 

You nod and then sigh. “Well, if you can define “ok” as bewildered and slightly confused, then yeah.”

 

Harry pulls you back into a hug. “You know who’s done this, don’t you?” You have a feeling you do before he even says it. “Simon. Who else could get access to both footage from the hotel security tapes _and_ your email address?”

 

You shudder. “If he’s got that, he can send me all kinds of stuff...”

 

“Then I want you to delete anything you get from that address, don’t read it, just throw them straight in the bin,” Harry says. “In fact, mark them as Spam and then just delete them later. If you ignore them, he’ll stop. You can’t let him think he’s getting to you.”

 

You nod, shakily. “What do we do now?”

 

“Sleep?” Harry suggests, only half-joking.

 

Still, you giggle at him. “Did you really run all the way from the station just for me?”

 

“Of course,” Harry replies, looking straight into your eyes. “I told you, I’d walk to the ends of the Earth and back for you; even if I collapsed en route.”

 

“Aw, Harry!” You fling your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “That’s so sweet,” you whisper, as he hugs you back. “And...kind of a turn on.”

 

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Well, I did bring the stuff.”

 

“Are you feeling up to it?” you ask, pulling away from him. After all, he’s just run all that way, how can he possibly have any energy left?

 

“I’m always up to it when I’m with you, _[Y/N],”_ Harry answers and he reaches up and kisses you. Your eyes flutter shut and you relax against him. “We have got to get him back for this,” Harry mutters, pulling you down on top of him. “But that can wait.”

 

You lean forwards and kiss him again. “Harry, I’m sorry,” you say softly. “I can’t believe I just jumped to conclusions like that.”

 

 _“[Y/N],_ it’s alright,” Harry says, cupping your face. “And I have to admit, if it was me I’d have done the same, leapt to the same conclusion, even though I know that you’d never do that to me.”

 

You nod. “I trust you, Harry, I do, it’s just-”

 

“I know,” Harry says, softly. “And that’s what Simon wanted, to tear us apart. But that’s never going to happen, never.”

 

“Never,” you agree, leaning down to kiss him again before you get more than a little cosy with him beneath the sheets for the first time in nearly a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The email address is purely fictional; or if it does belong to anyone out there no insult or plagiarism was intended.


	22. "Crash"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be drama, and that's all I'm going to say...

 

You don’t get anymore emails from Simon, thankfully, although the whole thing has made you vigilant about being careful with your email address. You’ve even taken to using your Uni one for most important things, since it won’t be valid once you leave, and logging out of your own email system after you’re done checking emails on it.

 

_Why is he doing this, though?_

 

You have no idea. Alright, so he doesn’t like you and he’s told Harry that it’s because he thinks you’re no good for his public image, but Harry’s certain that that’s a load of bull, and even if it isn’t, he’s never given a specific reason for you not being good for his image. Alright, so you’re not a celebrity, but you would have thought that that was a good thing, less scandals in the papers and that.

 

 _Maybe some people are just mental, though,_ you mind ventures as you shoot off another few rounds with your bow. There’s something very satisfying, you find, about pulling back an arrow and letting it fly, and seeing it smack into the target. It’s even more satisfying when you picture it’s Simon’s head you’re aiming at. You wonder if you could interest him in being a target for you; maybe if you and the others in 1D tied him up and stuck an apple on his head it would be good payback for all he’s doing to you and Harry. You smile and resolve to bring it up with your boyfriend the next chance you get.

 

“Well done, _[Y/N],”_ smiles Stephen, one of the men shooting on the same target as you. “That was a good shot.”

 

“Thanks,” you smile back. Most of the other people here are older than you, there are only a handful who are roughly about your age, so there’s always a nice, relaxed atmosphere about the place and it’s one of those groups where you don’t feel pressured to be better than everyone else. Even if there are competitions, they’re all in good fun. Eventually, however, the sun reaches its zenith, it’s midday, and you’re all packing up your stuff ready for next week.

 

“Shooting indoors next week!” Marcus, one of your instructors calls as you’re leaving. “Don’t forget!”

 

You wave, vaguely, in his direction and make your way to the bus stop. You wonder how Harry’s doing today. He and the others have a recording session in some studio back in England, you forget the name of it, for a Best Of...So Far album, which, to be perfectly honest, you can’t actually see the point of, but as Harry points out, it’s more money for the people who produce these things, as well as for the band, and more publicity.

 

With a small, thoughtfully shrug, you hitch your rucksack higher up on your shoulders and feel a tingle of nerves hit you as you leave the safety of the park where you’ve been shooting and venture out towards the bus stop. Ever since getting that first email from Simon, you’ve been a little on edge about being out somewhere, whether it’s alone or with the girls, or whatever, and you know that it’s silly to be so paranoid, in fact you’ve no idea why you’re even paranoid, but the fact is that it’s how you feel and you’re not going to feel safe again until you’re back in the safety of your own flat.

 

You think it might be something to do with the fact that whenever you think about that email, you picture Simon looking the same way he did that time you brought those cookies backstage at the CIA, that way that creeped you out. That, you reflect with an inward sigh, was probably his intention.

 

The bus pulls up and you push all thoughts of Simon out of your mind and try to concentrate on Harry instead. He should be up by now, probably on his way to the studio, so the second you’re sitting comfortably in your seat, you send him a quick text.

 

_Missing you, Pup._

 

You smile a second later when your phone beeps again.

 

Beep.

 

_Missing you too, Cavegirl. How was archery?_

 

You text back:

 

_Pretty good. I got a good score and beat my Gold record._

Beep.

 

_How many did you get?_

_Fourteen. Before that my record was eight._

Beep.

 

_Wow, that’s great! Wish I could have seen that!_

_You’re sweet._

 

Beep.

 

_Not feeling particularly sweet to be perfectly honest. I keep thinking about what Simon did to you._

_Harry, you’re not going to start anything, are you?_

Beep.

 

_I feel like I should._

_Harry, no! It’ll just feed him the fuel._

 

There’s a pause and then you text him again.

 

_You can’t give him an excuse to kick you out of the band, Harry! Please? :$_

 

Beep.

 

_Alright._

_Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?_

 

Beep.

 

_I promise, [Y/N]. XD_

_Good._

 

Beep.

 

_I love you, [Y/N]._

 

You smile.

 

_I love you too, Harry._

You’re so caught up in texting him that it’s only when you hit the stop before yours and look up that you realise the weather’s turned and it’s raining. You shudder. It feels like an omen. Then you scold yourself for being so superstitious; you sound like your Aunt Peggy. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d say. With an inward groan, you yank up the hood of your zip-up and get to your feet as the drive pulls up to your stop.

 

“Thanks,” you say to him, politely, as you always do, before bracing yourself for the cold, wet rain. You shudder again, just because the wind’s blowing it down your collar and fold your arms, making your way across the road in the direction of your flat. Once again that feeling of paranoia hits you and you hurry your pace a little, before realising once again that you’re being completely stupid.

 

That is, until you feel a prickling across your skin, like someone’s watching you.

 

“Come on, _[Y/N],_ you’re being silly,” you mutter, but you begin to run even so. The sooner you’re back in the warm and dry the better, and not just because of the rain. You just don’t want to be out on your own on a day like this for another second, knowing that there are so many little corners and hidey holes near your flat where someone could just pop out of the shadows at you, not that you could ever imagine Simon being capable of such a thing, but you never know...

 

Everything suddenly happens very fast.

 

You might remember it differently in future, but for now these are the facts as you do remember them.

 

As you go to run across the road before the lights can go green, your right foot suddenly twists underneath you instead of going flat like it’s meant to when you run and you slam into the middle of the road with a yelp of pain. With the rain coming down, you can barely see or hear anything as the pain engulfs you and as you try to stand up, the lights flick to green again, the car doesn’t see you, or rather the driver doesn’t, you hear a squeal of brakes, hear a thud, feel something ram into you and knock you about a foot or so down the road.

 

Then everything goes black.

 

 

**Harry’s POV:**

I pocket my phone as we head into the studio. The whole way, though, my head’s only been thinking about two things – _[Y/N]_ and what Simon’s doing to her. The threat, the email, and I know that the whole thing’s got her paranoid about what he might do next to try and tear us apart. Right now I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and hold her tightly, I want to make this whole thing better, but I’ve no idea how to.

 

And when I look at Simon as we walk in, all I can feel is hatred.

 

I hate him. I actually hate him.

 

Recording always takes a while anyway because there’s always so much perfecting of vocal harmonies and musical juxtaposition, but today the day seemed to drag anyway. Maybe it’s my fault, I don’t know, but can you blame me when my mind’s on the girl I love and not on the music? During a quick break, I check my phone and see that she hasn’t texted me back like she’d said she would when she got back to the flat, which was rather worrying. I’m just wondering whether or not to phone her when Simon announces “Right, come on, back to work, and I trust we’ll have no problems concentrating this time.”

 

His words are directed at me, and in spite of my promise to _[Y/N],_ I suddenly feel the urge to confront him. He had frightened her, he was hurting her, and he didn’t even care. All he cared about was the music.

 

“Simon, can we talk?” I ask, stiffly.

 

“Not right now, Harry,” he replies, dismissively.

 

“Yes, now,” I say, firmly.

 

Simon gives me a look. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

 

I snap. I don’t mean to. I just lose it with him. And I’m not usually one for losing my temper often, even when someone really annoys me, but when I do, well, let’s just say that sometimes I can scare even myself. Finding nothing else to hand, I just grab the nearest chair and fling it at him. Being heavy as it is, it just clatters across the room, missing him by inches, with a loud bang, causing the others to stare at me like I’ve gone mental.

 

“You just stay away from her!” I shout. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work!”

 

“Hey, Harry, easy,” Zayn says, grabbing hold of me, trying to calm me down, but I wriggle in his grip.

 

“I mean it!” I yell at Simon. “If you do anything to try and hurt her again, I swear-!”

 

“Haz!” Liam hisses, giving me a little shake.

 

Remembering that it’s not just us, that there are other people in the studio beside Simon and the guys who just witnessed that little outburst, I quickly calm down a little. But I continue to glare daggers at Simon. The bastard actually looks more amused than anything.

 

“Si, maybe we should take another break?” Louis says, tactfully, and then without waiting for a response from him, they promptly half-drag, half-lead me outside, only letting go of me when we’re about half a foot away from the building.

 

“I hate him,” I mutter, straightening my T-shirt, trying to calm down completely. Running my hands through my hair, I concentrate on _[Y/N],_ on her sweet, smile and soft laugh and the way her _[y/e/c]_ eyes light up when she sees me, and I instantly feel better.

 

“Haz, what’s got into you?” Zayn exclaims. “I mean, what was all _that_ about?”

 

I glance at them, their concerned, confused expressions, and I just can’t bring myself to tell them what the real problem is. “It’s nothing,” I say, lamely, wishing I could come up with a better excuse than that.

 

“Yeah, right!” Niall waves a hand at the studio. “You don’t usually go throwing chairs around when there’s nothing wrong with you!”

 

“Technically, he didn’t really throw it,” Liam points out. “He just sort of...bowled it.”

 

I try to make light of the situation by grinning “Now there’s an idea, chair bowling!”

 

It doesn’t get them off my back, though. “Look, mate,” says Louis, coming up and putting a hand on my shoulder, “we know Simon can be a bit of an arse sometimes but-”

 

He’s cut off as my phone suddenly rings. “Finally,” I sigh in relief, pulling it out of my pocket and answering it. _“[Y/N]?”_

 

The guys step back to give me some personal space, but the voice that answers isn’t _[Y/N]’s._ “Oh, Harry, it’s _[Y/M/F/N].”_

I frown, because she sounds very serious. “Where’s _[Y/N]?_ Is she ok?”

 

Her Mother takes a deep breath. “She’s been in an accident.”

 

My heart stops, momentarily, and I feel like I can’t breathe. “W-what?” I manage to choke out.

 

“She’s going to be alright,” her Mother replies and I relax a little. “She’s in the hospital.”

 

“What happened?” I ask. My mind is reeling. How can this be happening? I lean one arm against the wall, feeling I might fall over without some kind of support.

 

“Well...we’re not entirely sure. It was raining and there was a car, the driver didn’t see her, said she just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the road...”

 

She trails off and in an instant I make my choice.

 

“I’m coming,” I say, and cut her off before she can protest or anything. The guys look at me, worriedly but before they can say anything, I’ve turned tail and run for it.

 

“Harry!” Zayn shouts after me. “Where are you going?”

 

“Cardiff!” I shout back, almost falling over myself in my effort to put on speed. I dive into the car and just tell the driver to go. My mind is thinking all sorts of things, wondering again and again how this is happening, wondering if this is some sort of sign, pushing me to make the choice that Simon wanted me to make. I can hear the others yelling behind me as we take off but I can’t think about them right now, all I can think about is _[Y/N]._

 

_I don’t care if it takes all night, I need to be with her!_

 

My phone beeps. It’s Niall.

 

_What the hell are you doing?_

 

I take a deep breath and reply before turning my phone off.

 

_Choosing. I’m really sorry but I can’t abandon her, not now. Tell Simon he’s won._

 

Next stop, Cardiff Hospital.


	23. "I Quit"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The others have a surprise for you and Harry...

You wake, dimly aware of some kind of pain. Your ribs are hurting, you must have slept awkwardly last night. Wait, you don’t actually remember falling asleep and come to think of it, this bed doesn’t feel like yours, the pillow’s harder and there seem to be more springs in the mattress than before.

 

_What’s going on?_

 

You open your eyes to a very unfamiliar setting. This is definitely not your familiar room at the flat, it looks like a hospital room. It sounds like a hospital room, all those clicking footsteps nearby and the familiar soft beepings in the corridors.

 

Why are you here?

 

You sit up and instantly let out a yelp as a stab of sharp pain goes through your right foot. It’s so bad that it brings tears to your eyes and you stare in shock at the sight of your foot swollen beyond its normal size.

 

Then your Mum’s there, beside you. “Sweetie, are you alright?” she asks.

 

“No!” you gasp, shuddering with the pain. “What happened?”

 

“You’ve been in an accident, love.” Your Dad’s there too.

 

“What?” You frown and then slowly all the pieces come back to you, the rain, the paranoia, the fall, the car... “Oh.”

 

“What on Earth were you doing in the middle of the road?” your Mum asks. “The driver said you just appeared out of nowhere.”

 

“I fell,” you stammer. “I was running and it was raining and I tripped...” You gesture to your foot. “It’s not broken, is it? I can’t graduate with a broken foot.”

 

“No, it’s not broken, _[Y/N],”_ says a voice and you look up to see a familiar face, your doctor, Doctor Meyrick, smiling cheerfully and reassuringly at you. “Just sprained. Unfortunately it does mean you won’t be able to walk properly on it for at least a week-”

 

“A week?” you interrupt.

 

“And you may need to have some physiotherapy,” Dr Meyrick continues, flipping through his notes, “but I advise you keep off it as much as possible and keep it elevated as often as you can.”

 

“Well, how am I supposed to go to Uni?” you stammer.

 

He smiles, sympathetically. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to, at least not until you can walk without doing any more damage to your foot.”

 

“But I have assignments!” you protest.

 

“They’ll understand,” your Mum replies, patting your shoulder. “Maybe Fern or Clara can send stuff on to you?”

 

You sigh and look down at your foot. “How am I even supposed to move around my flat?”

 

“My advice would be for you to move back in with your parents whilst you’re still healing,” Dr Meyrick offers, kindly.

 

You sigh and lie back against the bed. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you groan.

 

“Aside from that, though, you don’t have many injuries,” Dr Meyrick adds, cheerfully. “You’ve got some bruising around your ribs and a few minor scrapes on your arms, but other than that, you’ve almost come out of this without a scratch.”

 

You know he’s trying to be nice, and you’re grateful, but even so, you can’t help feeling bitter about this. In a way you know it’s your own fault for running and for being so daft, thinking that someone was following you. On the other hand, though, who’s to blame for you feeling like that? Simon.

 

You don’t say any of this, though, you just nod and then try to curl up with your arms around your knees, but your foot hurts to even move it. You wince. “Are you sure nothing’s broken?”

 

“Try wiggling your toes for me,” Dr Meyrick replies. You do so. “You’re able to do that?”

 

“Yeah, but it hurts like hell,” you say.

 

He nods. “Then it _is_ just sprained. If it was broken you wouldn’t be able to do that at all.”

 

You sigh again and then glance at your Mum. “Can I have my sock back, please? My foot’s getting cold.”

 

“That’s another thing,” Dr Meyrick adds as your Mum passes you the sock. “Don’t wear tightly fitting socks or shoes whilst your foot’s still swollen.” You nod and he makes to leave. “Now you’re awake, let’s get a dressing on that foot of yours.”

 

“Thanks,” you manage to say, finally managing to cuddle into yourself.

 

Your Mum rubs your back. “You know it could have been a lot worse, _[Y/N],”_ she says, softly. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

 

“We’ve been so worried about you, love,” your Dad adds, sitting gently down beside you.

 

You exhale and raise your head. “I know I shouldn’t be complaining but...you know, it’s only when something like this happens you realise how much it affects your life. I mean, no Uni, living back with you guys when I’d just got used to living on my own...”

 

“It’s just until your foot’s healed,” your Mum reminds you, softly.

 

“Oh, my God,” you realise. “No archery!”

 

You bury your head in your arms again. You want to cry but it’s like that accident just knocked all the tears out of you. You just sit there for a while, feeling your parents rubbing your back and shoulders in sympathy, and then your Mum suddenly says, in a tone of surprise and delight, “Look who’s here.”

 

You glance up in surprise as your boyfriend runs into the room. “Harry!” you exclaim.

 

Harry throws his arms around you and holds you tightly. Sudden warmth flows into you as you cling back to him. It feels like everything’s going to be alright now that he’s here. “You’re alright,” he murmurs in relief, kissing the top of your head. “I’ve been worried sick.”

 

“I thought you had a recording session today?” you frown up at him.

 

Harry sighs. “Well...they can manage without me.”

 

You sense that he’s got something serious to tell you, so you glance up at your parents. Thankfully, they get the message. “I think we’ll go and get something to drink from the cafe’,” your Mum says. “Do you two want anything?”

 

“No, thanks, Mum,” you say.

 

Harry smiles. “Thanks, but I’m alright.”

 

Your Dad actually pats Harry’s shoulder before he leaves. You can tell that they’re just as glad that he turned up here as you are. When they’re gone, Harry sits down beside you and takes both your hands in his. “I made my choice,” he says, simply.

 

You frown at him. “What?”

 

“I chose you,” Harry replies, calmly.

 

Realisation sinks in. “Harry...” you begin.

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ Harry interrupts, “I know what you’re going to say; that I’ll be letting the guys down, and that’s cutting me up inside, it really is, but they’ll...” He hesitates, takes a deep breath and goes on, “they’ll get over it. And there’ll be other bands and other opportunities, and I can make new friends, but...” He looks you straight in the eyes and reaches up to cup your face with one hand. You lean into his touch. “There’s only ever going to be one of you.” He leans forwards and presses his forehead to yours. “I love you, _[Y/N],_ and the thought of not being with you ever again...well, if that ever happened, it would kill me.”

 

Your heart skips a beat. “Harry...” you stammer.

 

“Go on, say it,” Harry sighs. “Tell me I made the wrong choice. I don’t care. My mind’s made up.”

 

You realise that he’s on the verge of tears. “I think that whichever one you chose, it would have been the wrong choice,” you say, softly, and then you pull him into a tight hug which you know he needs. “But I’m very flattered you chose me.”

 

Harry buries his face in your hair and you know that he is crying now, softly, so you don’t say anything else, you just hold him as he clings to you and close your eyes, unable to believe this is happening. All the fans, the fame, the fortune, the touring, the singing, Harry’s just given all that up, for you. It makes you feel extremely loved, and yet a little guilty, because he’s sacrificed everything just to be with you.

 

But in the words of the Bard, what’s done is done, and you just know that there’ll be no changing Harry’s mind for him now.

 

You both look up as a friendly-looking nurse comes into the room, carrying a rolled-up bandage. “Hello,” she smiles, causing you both to part. Harry quickly rubs his eyes and pulls himself together but she doesn’t seem to notice because she simply bustles over to you and ties the bandage around your foot. “Always make sure this is tied fairly tightly,” she instructs you, “and do you know what else is good for a sprained foot? A nice hot bath.”

 

You smile back as she finishes tying it. “Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.”

 

“How did that even happen?” Harry asks, gesturing to your foot.

 

“I don’t know,” you say, honestly. “I was running back to the flat and I must have moved awkwardly or something because my foot curled up under me instead of going flat like it was supposed to. Now they’re saying I’ve sprained it.” You sigh. “It hurts to even move it. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to walk.”

 

Harry frowns. “Why were you running?”

 

“It was raining.” You can tell by the look on Harry’s face, though, that he knows you’re hiding something, and you sigh. “Alright. I thought someone was following me. I don’t know...I guess...this whole Simon thing’s got me paranoid.”

 

Harry pulls you back into his arms. “He’s not going to hurt you again, _[Y/N]._ I’m not going to let him.”

 

“Harry?” you say.

 

“Yeah?”

 

You look up at him and smile. “Shut up and kiss me.”

 

Grinning for the first time, Harry leans down and presses his lips to yours. You quickly fling your arms around his neck and card your hands through his unruly curls. “My brave Puppy,” you murmur, smiling at him. He returns your smile and then kisses you again. You break away from him, suddenly, a thought occurring. “Did-did you tell the guys what was going on?”

 

“No, but I’m guessing they’ve probably figured it out for themselves by now,” Harry replies, before giving you a quick explanation about all that happened in the studio. Your eyes widen slightly.

 

“You threw a chair at him?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know what came over me,” he replies, running a hand through his hair. “I just sort of...snapped.”

 

“Well, for God’s sake, don’t tell my parents that,” you say. “Otherwise they’ll never let you date me again.” Harry smiles and squeezes your hand. “What are you going to tell yours?” you ask, slowly, thinking that his parents and Gemma are going to be extremely surprised by his sudden decision to quit One Direction.

 

“That my manager’s a prick,” Harry replies, with a shrug. “I’ll figure something out.”

 

You look at him. “Harry, I know this is a completely daft question, but are you ok?”

 

He shoots you one of his cheeky smiles, the ones that used to annoy you no end but which now you live to see. “I’m fine, _[Y/N]._ I’ve got you.” You cuddle into him and he kisses your forehead. “I’m going to be fine.”

 

You sit like that for a while and then your parents come back in. You give a little sigh. “Can I go home yet?”

 

“Well, Dr Meyrick has a few forms and stuff to fill out before they can let you go, but yeah, hopefully soon,” your Dad replies.

 

Harry glances at you. “How are you going to manage at the flat if you can’t walk?”

 

“I’m moving back with these guys for a bit,” you explain.

 

Harry thinks for a second and then gets to his feet. “Can I talk to you guys a second?” he asks your parents, surprising both them and you.

 

“By all means,” your Mum replies, and they leave the room.

 

You strain to try and hear but it’s no good, so you just sigh and lie back against your pillow. “Wish I’d brought a book,” you mutter. They’re gone for about five minutes and then they all come back, looking rather happy about something. “Ok, what’s happening?” you ask, sitting up.

 

“Harry’s got a proposition,” your Dad says.

 

Harry sits down beside you. “Would it just be easier to stay with me while your foot’s healing?” Your eyes widen slightly at that too. “I mean, now I’m going to be at home all the time anyway, I can look after you. If that’s alright with you.”

 

You glance at you parents, but they don’t seem to have any objections. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be a burden?” you ask.

 

He gives you a look. “You’d never be that, _[Y/N].”_

 

You smile. “Alright, then,” you say, slightly nervously. After all, you’ve stayed the night at his place, but only ever a night, not an entire week.

 

With a grin, Harry hugs you tightly. “You guys are ok with this?” you ask your parents.

 

“Your boyfriend makes a very convincing argument, _[Y/N],”_ your Dad grins back.

 

So, it’s all settled. Dr Meyrick comes in half an hour later and tells you that you’re free to go and that you should come in for a physiotherapy appointment on Wednesday, apologetically explaining that that’s the closest he could get for you, but you’re fine with that. Shakily you manage to pull your shoes and zip-up on and then Harry helps you gingerly to your feet. “Lean on me,” he mutters, taking most of your weight. You can’t even limp, your foot’s in that much pain.

 

You smile up at him gratefully and that’s when it happens. Without warning, you hear the sound of running footsteps and then as you all look up, you’re startled to see the rest of One Direction skid into the room.

 

“What are you guys doing here?” Harry asks in surprise.

 

“Um...” Zayn looks embarrassed as he glances at your parents. Thankfully, they tactfully leave, making out they need to talk to Dr Meyrick about something.

 

“You ok, _[Y/N]?”_ Niall asks, hugging you. “What happened?”

 

“Got into a bit of an argument with a car and lost,” you smile, almost knocked over by the force of his hug. “But I’m fine, really.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us about Simon?” Louis asks, throwing a soft punch at Harry’s arm.

 

“Ow!” Harry protests.

 

“Though it would explain why you’ve been so distant with him all of a sudden,” Louis goes on.

 

Harry scowls at him. “Would you have believed me? Seemingly sweet, innocent manager Simon is really-?”

 

“A racist prick,” Niall finishes with venom, finally letting go of you.

 

You stare at him. “What?”

 

“Well, we _think_ that’s his reason for trying to break you two up,” Liam ventures. “I mean, when we confronted him about it, he did use the word...”

 

You sit down because you can’t balance on one foot any longer, even leaning on Harry. “Taff?” you finish.

 

Harry sinks down beside you. “I knew he couldn’t have a good reason for it.”

 

You lean against him, a little stunned. That’s it? That’s the reason Simon wants you away from Harry?

 

“We still love you, _[Y/N]!”_ Niall says, brightly, trying to make you smile. It works a little.

 

“That’s why we ran out on the session too,” Zayn adds, pulling up a chair.

 

Harry looks up at them. “What? You guys can’t quit too.”

 

“We can if Simon’s being a dick,” Louis replies.

 

“Still...”

 

“Look, Harry,” Zayn interrupts. “I thought you knew the way it was with us. One out, all out.”

 

Liam grins. “Anyway, we’re not calling it “quitting,” we’re thinking of it more like going on strike, until Simon decides that he can accept you being with _[Y/N]._ And if he can’t, well-”

 

“Then, it’s time to get a new manager,” Zayn finishes.

 

Harry gets to his feet, his expression of surprise breaking into a smile. “You guys are the best, you know that?”

 

You find yourself quickly pulled into a group hug, and though you’re very grateful to the others for sticking by Harry, you’re still a little bit worried that they might very well have just thrown away their entire careers for good, all because of you.

 

_What now?_


	24. "Can't Hold Us Down"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Harry settle into living together...

Clara phones you the second you’re settled in Harry’s place.

 

“Hey, do you have any idea what Kate was on about when she talked about setting in relation to mood the other day?” is the first thing she says after greetings are exchanged. “Because I have no idea.”

 

“I think she means like how sometimes a person’s mood matches settings in books,” you say. “Like, if one of your characters is feeling low, then the setting’s dull and lifeless.”

 

“That was what Libby thought too,” Clara replies.

 

“Actually, Clar,” you say, seeing your chance, “I’m glad you phoned because I kind of need a favour.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“Well, I’m not going to be in Uni for at least the next week-” you begin.

 

“Why not?” she interrupts. “What’s happened?”

 

“Don’t start panicking, I’m fine,” you say, and then quickly explain everything to her. You can practically see her eyes widening in shock as you finally finish with a “Anyway, since I can’t actually walk, I was wondering whether you guys could just take some notes for me in classes in case I miss anything important. I’ve already emailed all our lecturers to send on our assignments.”

 

“That’s not a problem,” Clara says. “Are you sure you’re ok, though?”

 

“Trust me, I’m fine,” you smile as Harry comes back into the room, carrying two steaming cups. “Harry’s looking after me.”

 

“Aw!” Clara smiles. “Are you sure you and him aren’t thinking about getting married yet?”

 

“We will when you and Sam do,” you tease back and you both laugh. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later, ok?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll let everyone else know you’re ok,” Clara says, before you both say goodbye and hang up. You lean back in the sofa cushions with your tea.

 

“Ok?” Harry grins at you.

 

“Mm-hm,” you nod and then take a sip of your drink. “Oh, God, I needed that.”

 

“I’m not surprised after the day you’ve had,” Harry replies, elevating your feet even more by pulling the pillow they’re resting on onto his lap.

 

You sigh. “Look at it,” you say, indicating your sprained foot with the good one. “It’s twice the size it should be. It’s gone up like a beach ball.”

 

Harry smiles and gives your knee a small squeeze. “It will go down.”

 

“I just hope I don’t end up with a permanent limp,” you sigh. “That’ll look really good on our graduation video.”

 

“I’m sure that if that happens, the girls will all pretend to limp to keep you company,” Harry smiles.

 

You manage a smile too. “Well, we did all say that if one of us trips on stage, we’ll all trip too, so...” You shrug and take another sip of your tea.

 

Harry watches you, carefully. “Are you upset about what Simon said?”

 

You nod. “Yeah, a bit. I just can’t believe anyone could be that shallow.”

 

Harry sighs. “Neither can I.” Then, he sets his cup on the table and pulls you into a tight hug, or at least as best as he can given that your feet are still in his lap. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not like it’s your fault,” you say, softly, hugging him bask as best as you can since you’re still clasping a hot cup of tea between your hands. “You just fell in love with the wrong girl, that’s all.”

 

Harry shakes his head and tightens his grip on you. “Don’t say that. You’re perfect.”

 

You smile and close your eyes, knowing that it’s useless to protest. Harry would tell you that you looked perfect even if you had the flu and were puking up your guts all night. In fact it’s more than likely that he’d crawl into bed with you and hold you all night regardless of the risk of infection. “Well, Mr Cowell doesn’t think so,” you say.

 

“He’s an idiot,” Harry sighs. “I mean, if you’d had a history of...drug use or something, I’d have understood his reservations, but something so petty as where you’re from-”

 

“Well, it might not have been that,” you interrupt. “Niall did say that he sounded like he was blurting it out in temper.”

 

“Still...” Harry sighs and lets go of you. “He’s an idiot and I don’t want you to listen to a word he says.

 

“I doubt I’ll be able to now,” you remind him. “I can’t believe you guys all quit just for me.”

 

Harry smiles. “Well, the guys have always got my back, I guess. Like the girls have always got yours.”

 

“Well, it’s a very sweet gesture,” you say, reaching up to kiss him. Harry kisses you back and you say no more about the whole incident, just cuddled together and watch some old Alfred Hitchcock thriller that has you both jumping and gripping one another’s hands tightly. Afterwards, Harry helps you to bed, or rather carries you as he insists on doing and since this time you can’t walk, you’ve no objection to him doing so, and you both fall straight asleep, with you reflecting that it’s going to be strange waking up tomorrow and not having to go to Uni.

 

_Mind you, it’s also going to be a bit odd waking up every day for the next week with Harry. And being around him more than I’m used to._

_Oh, fuck! What if it doesn’t work out like we think it will? What if we can’t stand being around each other so much?_

_Don’t be ridiculous, [Y/N]! Harry loves you! You know he does! Why would he not want to be with you?_

_Still..._

_Oh, shut up!_

_You’re probably moving too fast!_

_I said shut up!_

 

It is a bit odd at first, you have to admit, getting used to being with each other so much. You’re so used to spending long periods apart, missing one another and conversing via phone and Skype. Soon, though, you find yourself getting into a sort-of routine, a very comfortable one too. Harry insists on helping you everywhere whilst your foot’s still too sore to walk on and he accompanies you to the physiotherapy session, which you’re actually rather grateful for since hospitals always give you the creeps anyway and you’d rather not be in one on your own.

 

The session’s a bit tiresome but the doctors are patient and encouraging, and by the end of it you can sort of hobble, although you still need to lean on Harry, which of course neither of you minds all that much. For the most part, though, you spend your time on the sofa with your foot elevated, working on your Dissertation.

 

“I suppose it’ll teach me to be careful what I wish for,” you say as Harry glances over your shoulder to see what you’re up to. “I wanted more time to work on my Diss and now I’ve got it.”

 

Harry smiles and kisses your shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get the best mark in the class.”

 

You grin at him. “Probably tie with Fern, she usually gets high marks too.” Then, you add, “How do you think this sounds?” before reading from your screen “Sigmund Freud’s _The Interpretation of Dreams_ examines the concept of dreaming as a creation of fantasy in the role of “wish fulfilment” and perhaps this idea can be applied to the dream/fantasy scenes featured in both Lawrence and West’s tales.”

 

Harry blinks and then says, sheepishly, “Yeah, I think that sounds good.”

 

“You have no idea what I just said, do you?” you smile, knowingly.

 

“None whatsoever, sorry,” Harry admits, flushing.

 

You grin. “You know that’s actually a good thing because it means I’m on the right track and doing exactly what Jeff wants me to.”

 

Harry still looks embarrassed as he sits down beside you, being careful not to accidently knock your bad foot. “Sorry I’m not all that academic.”

 

“Harry, you don’t have to be,” you say, fondly, leaning over to take his hand. “I love you the way you are. I mean, you love me even though I’m not an internationally famous singer.”

 

“You should be with your voice,” Harry grins, leaning over to kiss you.

 

“Harry, my point is you don’t have to be clever to impress me,” you reply, smiling, as you Save your work before turning to give him your full attention. “You’re sweet and funny and protective and cute...you’re my Puppy, and in the words of your ex-girlfriend, that’s the way I love you.”

 

“She does make some good points in her songs,” Harry admits, before pulling you close for a kiss.

 

In the end, you don’t really get much work done that night. But Harry brings you breakfast in bed in the morning, which is something of a plus. You manage to get quite a bit of your Dissertation done whilst you’re healing, as well as catching up with your assignments – thank God for emails and Facebook – since being laid up with a bad foot doesn’t give you much else to do, and soon you’re just about able to limp from room to room whenever you need something.

 

That doesn’t stop Harry from carrying you all over the house, though, whenever he sees you getting up off the sofa.

 

“Harry,” you protest on Friday as he scoops you into his arms and carries you to the bathroom. “I can manage.”

 

“You might damage your foot more,” Harry scolds, softly, setting you down on your feet.

 

You shake your head as you wrap your arm around his neck. “Harry, you’re being very sweet and thoughtful and I know it’s just because you love me, but I really do need to try walking on it sometimes, otherwise it’ll never heal properly.”

 

Harry nods. “Alright, but if and when you get tired, I get to carry you.”

 

“Deal,” you say, kissing him.

 

And, even though you don’t feel particularly tired that night, you make out that you are anyway just so that he’ll carry you to bed.

 

“What would I do without you?” you ask, snuggling up to him beneath the duvet. “I mean, seriously? Right now if I wasn’t with you, I’d be stuck in my own room back at my parents’ place with two dogs sleeping on my bed and no one to cuddle with.” Harry smiles and tugs you closer to him. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. “Thanks for taking care of me, you’re brilliant,” you add.

 

“I like taking care of you, _[Y/N],”_ Harry replies, and then right before you drop off to sleep, you hear him whisper “You’re my everything.”

 

The guys call around the next day, both to check how you’re doing and to talk to Harry about something. So far, it’s not been made public that One Direction are “on strike” as Liam called it, and all they’ve told their families is that they are on a bit of a hiatus for personal reasons.

 

Now, though, it seems like they’ve hit a problem.

 

“It’s that interview,” Louis says, sitting down on the coffee table, as usual, when Harry asks what’s up. “You know, that one with Grimshaw that Simon told us about ages ago.”

 

“Right,” Harry sighs. “It’s Tuesday.”

 

“Well, there’s no way we can go,” Zayn says, frowning. “I mean, we’re on strike, right?”

 

“On the other hand, if we don’t turn up, we’d be letting a lot of people down,” Louis points out. “I mean, it’s one thing dropping Simon, it’s another thing ignoring the fans.”

 

“Yeah, but Simon’ll be there, though,” Liam adds. “And I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t feel like facing him again just yet.”

 

“This is such a mess,” Harry sighs.

 

You take a deep breath, knowing that there’s only one solution to this. “You guys need to go,” you say, and they all turn to look at you. “Simon or no Simon.”

 

 _“[Y/N],”_ Harry begins.

 

“No, listen,” you say, “Louis’s right, you can’t let down the fans. Everyone will be expecting you to be there. Not turning up would just give the press an excuse to drag your names through the mud. And you need to show Simon that you can do this without his input. Prove to him that One Direction can go on even without him as their manager. Maybe then he’ll think twice about letting you guys go.”

 

“You know, that does actually make sense,” Niall pipes up. You smile at him and he leans over to give you a high five.

 

Louis gets to his feet. “She’s right. Let’s do this.”

 

“One condition,” Zayn says, glancing at you. “You come with us. Watch from the sidelines.”

 

Harry nods and turns to you. “Show Simon there’s no way I’m giving you up for the world.”

 

You blush. “Me? At an interview? Wouldn’t that just put you guys off?”

 

“Nah, if we can cope with singing in front of ten thousand fans, we can cope with you watching us in an interview,” Niall grins.

 

“Excuse me, you nearly _couldn’t_ manage in front of ten thousand fans,” Harry reminds him.

 

“I could when she helped,” Niall replies, pointing at you.

 

You smile. “Ok, guys, if that’s what you want.”

 

“Sorted, then,” Zayn says, getting to his feet.

 

Once they’re gone, though, you can see Harry’s looking a little nervous and you slide your hand into his. “Harry, he’s not going to try anything with you lot there,” you say.

 

He turns and offers you a smile. “I know. It’s just...being in the same room as him. I don’t know how I’m going to cope.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” you say, snuggling up to him as he wraps his arms around you. “I know you will. You’re stronger than he is.”

 

Harry smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I love you, _[Y/N].”_

 

“I love you too,” you whisper, cuddling into him. “We’re not going to let Simon win, are we?”

 

“Never in a million years,” Harry whispers back.


	25. "Let It Go"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens that makes Simon view you in a different light at last...

You open your eyes, quite comfortably nestled against Harry, feeling very much loved after a round of love-making the night before. Well, you say “love-making,” and that makes it sound very innocent, but there had been a bit of bondage involved, and remembering that brings a smile to your face.

 

Harry’s still fast asleep, he barely moves as you sit up and brush your hair out of your eyes. You give him a loving smile and then lean forwards to press a soft kiss on his lips, which rouses him a little but he doesn’t open his eyes.

 

“Harry, wake up,” you whisper, nuzzling him.

 

“No,” he murmurs.

 

“Why not?” you smile.

 

“Don’t want to.” So saying, he tightens his grip around your waist.

 

You give an exaggerated sigh and push yourself up a little more, stretching out your sore foot. It’s not hurting as much now and the swelling’s gone down, but it still feels stiffer than it ought to and even though you can walk without needing support now, it does ache a little when you do, but it’s a dull, bearable pain.

 

“Alright,” you sigh, “well, I shall just limp to the bathroom on my own. I mean, I was going to ask if you wanted to shower with me but-”

 

“I’m awake!” Harry exclaims, sitting up.

 

You laugh at his eagerness. “The thought of your naked girlfriend in a tub full of hot steamy water appeals to you, does it, Harry?”

 

“The thought of carrying her to the bathroom appeals to me,” he corrects you, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

 

You smile and run a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. “My sweet Puppy,” you say, fondly, and he grins at you before leaning down to kiss you. You scoot closer to him and wrap your arms about him, enjoying being so close to him this early in the morning. Harry scoops you up and gets to his feet, carrying you to the bathroom as promised.

 

“I’m going to miss you,” he sighs, regretfully. “It’s been nice having you here every day.”

 

“I know,” you smile as he sits you on the edge of the bath. It has been nice, and you’ve loved every minute of it. “I’m going to miss it too.”

 

You turn and start fiddling with the taps, unaware that Harry’s clearly thinking hard about something.

 

“You should move in with me,” he blurts suddenly.

 

You whip around in surprise. “Wh-what?”

 

“When you’ve graduated and left your flat, you should move in here,” Harry persists, taking your hands in his. “I mean, you need somewhere to live, and it’s not like you need to get to Uni anymore. I know you’d be away from your friends and family but-”

 

“Well, not that far away,” you say.

 

He looks at you, expectantly. “Is that a “Yes?”

 

You take a deep breath. “No, but I’ll think about it.”

 

Harry pouts a little at that. “That means “No.”

 

“No,” you correct him, gently, “it means I’ll weigh up the pros and cons and then decide what would be best.” Harry still looks doubtful, so you lean forwards and touch his arm. “I might say “Yes.”

 

“But you might say “No,” he points out.

 

“Look, even if I did,” you say, “it wouldn’t be the end of us. I’d still love you.” You get unsteadily to your feet and wrap him in a hug. “Just give me a bit of time to think about it, hm?”

 

Harry smiles and wraps his arm tightly around you. “Take as much time as you need, _[Y/N].”_

 

You smile and then pull away from him. “Come on, we did get rather dirty last night, didn’t we?”

 

“You certainly did,” Harry laughs. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”

 

 _“I_ didn’t know I had it in me!” you reply.

 

By the time you’re both cleaned up, Harry’s phone is going, and it’s Niall checking he’s awake. “Yeah, we’ll be with you in a bit,” he says in response. “Ok, see you down there.”

 

You grin, feeling a tingling of excitement as you pull on your clothes, opting for your neatest T-shirt, skinny jeans and cardigan combo with baseball boots. After all, you’re going to be in a television studio, it’s all rather new and exciting to you. You resolve to tell Megan and Ollie every last detail, because you just know that they’ll want to hear all about it.

 

You both wolf down some toast in time for the car to arrive and then head out the door. You begin seriously thinking about Harry’s proposition. It wouldn’t be the first time he suggested something like that, you remember, but then last time you’d been too surprised by the fact that he thought about things like that to take his idea seriously.

 

But was it something you wanted?

 

You thought long and hard. Yes, it would mean leaving Cardiff. Yes, it would been being away, admittedly not very far away, from your family and friends. But on the other hand, you would be with Harry, and you did need somewhere to live once you were done with Uni, you couldn’t stay in student accommodation when you’d stopped being a student, and this week had proved that you could live with one another.

 

But was it moving too fast?

 

“What are you thinking about?” Harry murmurs, wrapping an arm around you and nuzzling your hair.

 

You smile and snuggle against him. “You, Pup,” you reply.

 

When you get to the studio, the guys are already there, waiting, all of them looking apprehensive.

 

Niall twitches slightly as you approach the door. “Simon probably hates us by now,” he mutters.

 

You turn to them, trying to help them be more positive. “Come on, guys, it’s just like a game of rugby,” you say, enthusiastically. “You’re a strong team together, one opposing member of another team isn’t going to get you down. You’re going to win this thing.”

 

Niall grins and flings an arm about your shoulders. “I love this girl, Haz!”

 

“Find your own,” Harry teases, slipping his hand into yours.

 

You all take a deep breath and then walk into the studio. As luck would have it, the first person you see is Simon, but before he can say anything, you’re greeted by a very over-enthusiastic Nick Grimshaw who, after all the introductions are made and he’s held onto your hand a little longer than necessary as well as gawked at you for a suitable period of time to make Harry somewhat jealous, he quickly hustles you all off towards the make up department.

 

“Hate this part!” Zayn groans.

 

You smile and sit in a free seat, chatting to one of the women who’s standing with a clipboard and a headset. She seems friendly enough, even cooing sweetly a little over the fact that you and Harry are in a relationship. You’re just glad to have something to distract you from looking over at Simon, you’re sure he’s glaring at the back of your head like that line in McBusted’s song “Hate Your Guts.” Soon, however, they’re all being hustled onto the set and you’re being shown to a chair to watch from the sidelines. You blow Harry a kiss as he turns to check you’re alright and he smiles at you.

 

Turning your head, you watch a technician rigging some lights, which look extremely heavy before glancing quickly back to the guys before Simon can catch your eyes. They’re getting arranged on the sofa, making themselves comfortable and the girl with the clipboard’s now calling for Nick. You glance back to the technician who’s being hustled to work quicker because the show’s about to start, and that’s when it happens. How it actually happens you may never know, because you once read somewhere that when lights in studios and theatres get set up they need a safety chain on them just in case they’re not fixed on properly. But either it’s a different system here or else the hassled technician forgot to put the chain on, at any rate with a sudden creak, the clamp gives out and the lamp falls, and all you’re aware of is that Simon’s right underneath it and you’re shooting off your chair with a yelp of “Look out!”, landing on the floor and managing to knock him aside seconds before the light comes crashing down right where he was standing with a resounding smash.

 

Harry shouts out _“[Y/N]!”_ and leaps off the sofa, running towards where you’re now lying beside Simon, both of you breathing heavily.

 

“Ow!” you moan as your foot twinges. You sit up and rub it, not looking at Simon, who’s staring at you in wonder.

 

“Are you ok?” asks the technician, who’s nearby.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say as Harry dives beside you to help you up, his eyes wide with concern, “but I don’t think that did my foot any good.”

 

Harry wraps you in a tight hug and you’re dimly aware of someone calling for a chair and someone else calling to get rid of that light and get a new one in “and for God’s sake, make sure it’s on properly this time!” You breathe out, feeling more of an adrenaline rush from that than archery, and that’s saying something. Then, someone brings you a chair and you sink into it, stretching out your foot. Harry crouches beside you.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.

 

You smile. “I’m fine, really.”

 

“Phew, Simon!” says Nick, bobbing up out of nowhere. “Just think, if it hadn’t been for _[Y/N],_ you’d be halfway to hospital by now!”

 

You glance up at Simon, who looks like he’s struggling to swallow his pride. Finally he looks at you and says, calmly, “Yes, you’re right. Thank you, _[Y/N].”_

 

Awkwardly, you stammer “Don’t mention it.”

 

“Right!” Nick exclaims, clapping his hands together, “Showtime! Come on, people!”

 

Harry gets to his feet and kisses your forehead before following him into the set. You smile warmly, watching the camera man signalling the tape’s rolling, and then as the interview starts, you hear a chair pull up beside you. Turning, you see Simon sitting back-to-front on it, watching you but not in a creepy way this time.

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he states. “Why did you?”

 

You shrug and turn your attention back to the interview. “I don’t know. I’d have done that whoever you were.”

 

“Well...” Simon says. “Thanks.”

 

You take a deep breath. “Yeah, well, even us Taffs are clever enough to save people in need.”

 

Simon sighs heavily. “You know, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you that. I apologise.”

 

You glance at him. “How do I know that this isn’t some kind of trick and that you’re not suddenly going to tear me and Harry apart again? Because personally I don’t think you’ve got any right to decide who people should be with just because you happen to not like somebody.” You turn back to the interview. “And anything you’ve ever done just keeps pushing us back together and driving Harry more and more against you.”

 

Simon says nothing and you both watch the interview in complete silence. When it’s finally over, Simon gets to his feet and goes over to the boys. You don’t follow, you just wait and pray that Harry doesn’t lose his temper. To your relief, though, Simon just ushers them offstage into a private corner and from what you can see, they look to be talking together quite reasonably.

 

Still, you cross your fingers for luck.

 

 

**Harry’s POV:**

All through the interview, I manage to maintain a happy, cheerful facade like the rest of the guys, but all the way through it my mind’s on _[Y/N]._ I’m worried about her because she’s sitting very close to Simon and I can’t hear what he’s saying to her, although it doesn’t look to be anything malicious, but you can never tell.

 

Suddenly the interview’s over and as I get to my feet, I’m ready to go over and hug her, but Simon comes over and says in a low voice “Harry, a word, please?” in a tone that I can’t quite say “No,” to in front of so many people. So, I nod and allow him to lead me to a quiet corner of the studio.

 

“Well?” I say, folding my arms.

 

Simon takes a deep breath. “Harry, you and the boys need to get back to performing. You’ll be letting down millions of fans if you don’t, and for that you need your manager.”

 

“That’s as may be,” I say, “but none of us are taking you back as a manager if you can’t accept that _[Y/N]’s_ a part of my life and nothing’s going to change that.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“What?”

 

“Fine,” Simon repeats calmly. “If that’s all it takes.”

 

I stare at him in disbelief and shake my head. “This is a trick,” I say, “like the last time.”

 

“Harry, your girl just saved me from being seriously hurt, this is the least I can do, take it or leave it,” Simon states, folding his arms.

 

I look at him and though I want to, I can see any trace of deception in his face. Here is an expression I can trust.

 

That doesn’t mean he’s so easily forgiven, though.

 

I step up to him. “If you ever do anything to hurt her again, it’ll be more than just a chair that gets thrown at you.” Simon just shrugs as if to say “Fair enough.” I glance over at the others. “And you’ll need to take it up with them as well. One out, all out.”

 

“But you’re in?” Simon asks.

 

I shrug. “Yes, if they are.”

 

Simon turns and goes over to the guys. I take a deep breath and then go to _[Y/N]._

 

 

**Your POV:**

You look up as Harry comes back to you. “What’s up?” you say.

 

He leans down and kisses you, the hint of a smile writ on his face. “I think you’ve just put yourself into Simon’s good books.”

 

You manage a smile. “Don’t tell me, he wants you guys back?”

 

“Yes, and I think he’s going to let go of anything he had against you before,” Harry replies. “I mean, he says he’s alright with you being with me-”

 

He doesn’t get to finish as you spring up and fling your arms around his neck for a hug. “Harry, you’ve got to accept it!” you say. “Tell me you’re going to!”

 

Harry grins at you and glances over to the others. “I think the guys are about to do that for me!”


	26. "The Climb"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You graduate, and Harry finally gets an answer from you...

You’re shaking.

_Deep breath._

_It’s going to be alright._

_Is it? What if I trip up or something?_

_You won’t._

_Oh, God, I feel sick!_

_“[Y/N]?”_

 

You snap your attention to Harry as normality comes back to you.

 

It’s Graduation Day and you have never been so nervous in your friggin’ life. You’re sitting inside the Red Dragon Centre with Harry and your Dad whilst your Mum orders for you. You can’t really face food, but you’ve been talked into at least one Welshcake and a smoothie so that you don’t have to go on that stage with an empty stomach.

 

Harry reaches for your hand and squeezes it. “You’re shaking.”

 

“I know,” you say.

 

“It’s going to be alright,” your Dad says. “You haven’t got anything to be nervous about.”

 

You know he’s right, but even so, the thought of just walking up on that stage is scary. Harry seems to read your thoughts because he says “Just think of it in stages. Stage One, have something to eat. Stage Two, go meet the girls. Stage Three, put on robes, Stage Four...”

 

“Graduate,” you finish. “How do you cope doing this every night for two hours, when I’m nervous about doing it one day for two seconds?”

 

Harry smiles and kisses your forehead. “You’re going to be fine.”

 

Inwardly, you hope so. After all, you’ve come this far. It’s now almost a whole year since you met Harry, and you’ve completed everything in your course. You finished your Dissertation and got a First, and you’re graduating with a 2.1 Degree, the second highest degree Cardiff Met can offer. Only a handful of your class got the highest. Fern’s one of them and you couldn’t be happier for her.

 

You should be able to do this, for crying out loud, after how far you’ve come.

 

Still...

 

You take Harry’s advice. Stage One: have something to eat. You do, you just manage to finish your breakfast even though your stomach is churning and your mouth feels dry. You finish and feel a bit better.

 

Stage Two: Go meet the girls.

 

The four of you make your way over to the Millennium Centre, where you’re lucky enough to be having your graduation because it truly is an amazing building. Glancing at Harry, you remember teasing him that morning in the hotel room that he scrubs up nicely. He does, looking very attractive in his neat suit, incredibly sexy, and suddenly you feel yourself glowing, knowing how many girls must be jealous of you right now. You feel a little more confident in your new _[Y/F/C]_ dress and matching shoes with silver heels. Your Mum always says when it comes to confidence, it’s easier when you know you look right.

 

You spot the girls and hurry up to them as fast and elegantly as you can in your shoes, and Libby flings her arms around you, looking very cute in a little black dress and grey short sleeved cardigan. It’s odd seeing her in sandals for once instead of those black boots you’ve all grown so used to seeing on her.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

                                                         

“Terrified,” you laugh, as the others come up.

 

“Me too, I’ve been shaking all morning,” Clara agrees.

 

Sam’s there too and you quickly take the opportunity to introduce him to Harry. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says.

 

“Nice to meet you too,” Harry replies, politely.

 

 _It’s alright,_ you realise, _everyone else is nervous too, but we can do this. We can graduate on this bloody scary day, together._

 

Soon comes Stage Three: put on robes.

 

You have to leave Harry and your parents with everyone else’s boyfriends and parents as the four of you make your way into the room to collect your robes with everyone else who’s graduating today. It’s a scary process, because suddenly you’re all paranoid that you’ll get to the front of the line and be informed that there’s no robes there with your names on them.

 

_Oh, God!_

_Calm down, it’ll be fine!_

 

You get handed your robes and shown how to put them on, along with your hats.

 

“I look like my old headmaster dressed like this,” Fern says, seeing herself in the mirror.

 

You laugh.

 

“How the hell are we supposed to go to the loo in these things?” Libby asks.

 

“Just sort of bunch them up, I suppose, like a dress,” you say.

 

You all troop out of the room and decide to grab something to eat in the nearby cafe’, or rather the girls do since they’ve not had any breakfast yet, you go along just to sit down for a bit. You pass other classmates on the way, including Ollie, and Megan, and Izzy, all at various points throughout the morning, and everyone discloses that they’re nervous and have been since they got up, which makes you feel a bit better about not being the only one who is.

 

Stage Four: Graduating.

 

It begins.

 

You follow the others into the main theatre room, where everyone else is either finding their seat or already sitting. You all sit in alphabetical order, meaning your miles from the girls, but not completely on your own since you have classmates on either side of you, and then, after a great deal of this, the ceremony begins.

 

You realise that all day you’ve been trying to slow down time and stop this moment from happening. Now all you’re wishing is that it would speed up so you can get it over and done with as soon as possible.

 

You turn your head and try and find your parents and Harry in the audience, but it’s no good, they could be anywhere. Somehow not being able to see them makes it easier.

 

Your class is called, and you all file your way towards the stage. One by one, people’s names are called, and your knees begin to shake.

_You can do this._

 

_“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]!”_

_Come on, [Y/N]! If you can save Simon Cowell from being hit by a falling light, you can do anything!_

You walk.

 

You take the certificate.

 

You shake the hand.

 

You dip the cap.

 

You walk offstage, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders and you can breathe again.

 

Outside, the others are waiting, and you all grab each other for a group hug before being hustled off to wait for your loved ones to emerge.

 

“I never, never want to do that again!” Clara declares, shaking her head.

 

“No, me neither,” you agree.

 

“I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out on stage,” Ollie says.

 

“Aw, it’s over now, Ol,” Megan smiles, hugging him.

 

The second Harry sees you, he makes a beeline for you, weaving in and out of others before sweeping you off your feet in a tight hug. You laugh and cling to him as he sets you down on your feet and kisses you.

 

“You did it,” he grins. “I knew you could!”

 

“I’ve never been so terrified in my entire life,” you exclaim.

 

“Well, it’s over now, you never have to do it again,” Harry replies, holding you tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

“I’m proud of me too,” you whisper.

 

After all the photographs have been sorted, you all go for a drink together. Your parents meet Clara, Fern and Libby’s parents and start talking in the way grown ups always do, and your group retreats to a quieter corner to sit and drink, and talk.

 

“You know this is supposed to be it, now, right?” Izzy says. “We’re meant to grow up and be responsible for ourselves now, life begins and all that.”

 

“Yeah, that’s kind of scary,” Megan agrees.

 

“Oh, please, if we can survive this, we can survive anything,” Libby laughs.

 

You feel a little pang, hoping this won’t be the last time you all see each other.

 

“We’ll keep in touch, right?” you say.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Fern says, putting her arm around you. “We’ll meet up and stuff.”

 

“Go Christmas shopping together,” Ollie adds, grinning.

 

“Or go to the caff,” Harry suggests.

 

You smile and he squeezes your hand underneath the table.

 

Afterwards, everyone leaves to go to lunch in various places, and you manage not to tear up when you say goodbye to the girls. Harry takes your hand and together with your parents you leave the building and go to the St David’s Hotel, where you’ve got lunch booked in.

 

“Now this is familiar,” Harry teases, and you giggle and shush him, remembering when you two teased each other in the elevator. So much had happened since then.

 

All day long you’ve been pondering something, especially after Izzy started talking about the future at the bar. It’s something you need to talk to your parents about, alone, and thankfully Harry gives you the opportunity to when he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he leaves you and your parents alone in the restaurant.

 

You take a deep breath. “Mum, Dad,” you say, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

Your Mum lowers her glass. “What is it, love?”

 

“Harry asked me to move in with him,” you begin.

 

“When was this?” your Dad interrupts.

 

“Just after my ankle healed,” you reply.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” your Mum asks.

 

“Well, I had other things on my mind,” you say. “I mean, there was the Diss and then graduating, but now...well, I’ve thought about it properly and...I think I want to.” You look at them. “What do you think? I know it probably sounds like it’s too soon, but I really think we can make it work.”

 

Your Dad smiles, leans over and squeezes your hand. _“[Y/N],_ you’re an adult now, you don’t need to ask our permission.”

 

“But he lives in Worcester,” you remind them. “I mean, it’s not that far away, but still...you guys had better come and visit me.”

 

Your Mum laughs and wraps her arm around you. “Of course we will. Your Dad’s right, and I think we all know that Harry will look after you.”

 

You grin and get to your feet. “You guys are the best,” you say, giving them both a quick hug before running out of the room. You almost collide with Harry in the lobby. He smiles at you.

 

“Everything alright?”

 

You cut him off by seizing the front of his jacket and kissing him firmly. Harry’s surprised but he kisses you back, sliding his arms around your waist and holding you tightly.

 

“Is your offer still open?” you ask.

 

He looks slightly confused, which is rather adorable. “What offer?”

 

You blush. “The one to move in with you?”

 

Harry stares at you. “Are you saying “Yes?”

 

You nod, and then confirm “Yes.”

 

Harry beams at you and sweeps you off your feet, spinning you both around until you feel dizzy. _“[Y/N],_ I love you! I love you so much!”

 

“I love you too!” you laugh, clinging to him.

 

It feels like it’s been an epic journey, a great struggle to the top of a mountain, and now you’re looking down and enjoying the view, with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be the last one!


	27. "Steal My Girl"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to go to another celebrity party, with Harry...and the others...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for my friend CupKatyCakes who's stuck with this for all 27 long, tedious chapters and always been very kind in her comments. There will be another fanfic, honey, the last one: look out for it, it's going to be titled Best Song Ever!
> 
> Thanks also to everyone else who's read this so far!

“This is so cool!” Megan squeals, squeezing your arm. “Oh, my God! 5 Seconds of Summer!” she adds, instantly disappearing from your side before you can blink.

 

Bewildered you laugh. Megan, Izzy and Ollie are all acting like children let loose in their favourite sweet shop. You suppose that having Harry invite you to celebrity parties before is the only reason you’re not staggering around starstruck right now.

 

“Typical,” Libby laughs, shaking her head as she darts past you to pick up her drink. “We’re over by Niall’s table, ok?”

 

“Is he alright?” you manage to call over the music. “I thought I saw him chugging sambuca earlier.”

 

“I think he’s asleep,” Libby informs you. “But Zayn and Perrie are looking after him.”

 

“I’ll be right there,” you say, quickly ordering another drink. The bartender asks if you’re sure you don’t want anything stronger than Archers and lemonade, but you decline his offer. You smile to yourself as you remember drinking this with Harry that time in Hereford when he saved you from that drunk. It makes you feel warm inside.

 

“Hey, _[Y/N]!”_ You turn to see Jade come bounding up to you, having left the rest of Little Mix cooing over a sleeping Niall. “Is it true you’re moving in with Harry?”

 

You smile. “Yeah, it’s true.”

 

She gives a little squeak of excitement, bobbing on the balls of her feet and then grabs you for a hug. “You two are going to have the cutest kids, you know that?”

 

“Well, hang on, it’s a bit early to be thinking about that, isn’t it?”you laugh.

 

“Oh, I know, but you guys aren’t ever going to split up, you’re the cutest couple out there.” Jade leans closer to you and mutters “Only don’t tell Perrie and Zayn I said that.”

 

You giggle as she quickly grabs a drink and you’re about to follow her back to the table when a voice near you says “Enjoying the party?”

 

Turning, you see Nick Grimshaw standing quite close to you. You smile. “Yeah, and my friends are having a good time too. Although, I think maybe someone should take Megs home; she looks like she’s about to hit on all of 5 Seconds of Summer all at once.”

 

He laughs. “You ever thought about going into the music industry yourself, _[Y/N]?”_

 

“No, Harry says I’ve got a good voice, but I’ve never really wanted to be in the limelight,” you say.

 

“Pity.” Neither of you have noticed Harry’s edging his way over, intent on grabbing you and getting you as far away from Grimshaw as possible. “Looks like yours could easily carry on television.”

 

You blush, awkwardly. “Um...thank you.”

 

He grins at you and then says “Hey, Harry.”

 

“Hey.” Harry assuages a tight smile as he reaches for your hand. “Dance with me?”

 

You smile and put down your empty glass. “Of course, Mr Styles,” you tease, and his smile softens a little. He pulls you into the crowd of dancers, far away from Nick Grimshaw’s prying eyes and spins you to him.

 

“So, what was he saying?” he asks.

 

“Just asking if I was enjoying the party,” you say, watching his reaction carefully.

 

“Really?”

 

“Harry, are you _jealous?”_

 

Harry flushes and looks down. “No.”

 

You smile and press closer to him. “Just between us, he’s not my type.”

 

Harry grins and raises his eyes to yours. “You know he’s not the only one here who can’t keep his eyes off you.”

 

You glance around the room and shrug. “So?” Then, it makes sense as one of their songs comes next through the speakers and you smile at him. “Harry, no one’s going to steal my heart away from you.”

 

“Seems like everyone wants to,” Harry replies.

 

“Well, then, they need to find another girl because I belong with you,” you say, paraphrasing their song lyrics.

 

Harry grins and twirls you, spinning you into his arms again. “You’re my girl,” he murmurs against the crook of your neck, kissing you there. You close your eyes as he makes his way up your neck, finally turning your head so he can press his lips to yours. “I love you, _[Y/N].”_

 

You spin around slip your arms around his neck, kissing him again. “I love you too, Puppy,” you whisper. “Oh, and I’ve had words with Louis about that.”

 

He raises his eyebrows. “Really? What did you say?”

 

“Just that he’s not to tease you about it, and if he ever mentions it to anyone else, I’m going to tie him to a target with an apple on his head and use him for archery practise,” you say, sweetly.

 

You both laugh, and then as the music picks up, Harry kisses you. You smile up at him as he leans his forehead against yours and begins to sing to you. And, even though you’ve always said you don’t like this song, or their music very much, you begin to sing along with him.

 

“Everybody wanna steal my girl,

“Everybody wanna take her heart away,

“Couple billion in the whole wide world,

“Find another one ‘cause she belongs with me...”

 

And, if Harry shoots a meaningful look in Nick Grimshaw’s direction when he sings that line, you don’t notice it.

 

“...She belongs with me...”


End file.
